


Nothing Left to Lose

by wendylesbiaburger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Former Rivals, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rivals to Lovers, Vomiting, former rivals to friends with benefits to lovers, learning to love, yeah that last is most accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 65,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendylesbiaburger/pseuds/wendylesbiaburger
Summary: Oliver Wood is living his dream as the starting Keeper for Puddlemere United. He also just broke up with the man he'd been with for six years. He's lost, and doesn't know where to turn after spending so much time with someone who took every opportunity to mock his one true passion. But he's also the only person he trusted with demons that had been haunting him for years.Marcus Flint has never slept with the same man twice. He wouldn't know what would disappoint his parents more, him sleeping with men when they wanted him to settle down with a pureblood woman or that all those men have been muggles. But Marcus is a man who would prefer to keep his encounters with men who were easy to shake off.It has been six year since those former rivals had so much given the other a thought. But when they have a by chance encounter when they're both at their most vulnerable, they develop a relationship neither would have imagined in their teenage years.Marcus and Oliver find that the other may be a place of trust, love, and emotional vulnerability. Things neither of them had ever been good at.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I haven't posted a Flintwood in six months. Not that I haven't had wip's, I've just been bad at finishing them lately. But here's a new fic that is going to be longer than my average fics. I'm going to try and update at least once a week. There is going to be smut in the future as well. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The crowds’ roar in his ears and the freezing cold weather would be a distraction to most people but not to Oliver, all his mind could focus on was making sure the quaffle didn’t fly passed his and into a goal. The roars didn’t even register in his mind. Not the boos when he saved a goal, not the cheers when his team scored on the Cannons. 

They were well into the season, and Puddlemere was doing pretty great. Oliver had been on Puddlemere for six years, and had been starting Keeper for two of them. It was close to his dream to play for Scotland’s team. It was still a dream at this point but he was being hailed as an up and coming Keeper. He was still doing his favourite thing in the world as a job. Puddlemere had been part of his dream since he was a kid too. That’s why he overworked his team when he attended Hogwarts, he had to look good to Puddlemere if he wanted to make the team. 

He saw the Seeker, Jen look like she saw the snitch. She got the wild look in her eye and the raised eyebrows she always did. Like she was a cat he caught sight of prey. His eyes went back to the Cannons’ Chasers who seemed to have realised she’d seen it but had possession of the quaffle. It was a close game at this point and could be anyone’s at this point. 

He hovered between the goals, his brows drawing together as he kept sight of the Chasers. They were fast but he’d dealt with faster. And when one shot towards his left, he went right for it. Confidence was in his chest as he flew towards it. He reached his arm out but as his fingers barely brushed against it, a bludger hit him right in his hip. 

He recoiled a little bit, the quaffle easily flying through the hoop as pain. Nothing was broken, at this point he knew the difference between a bruise and a broken bone. He recovered quickly enough and his eyes went back in search of the quaffle. He was relieved to see that Puddlemere had taken hold of it from the Cannons. 

His eyes shot to Jen and saw that she and the Cannons’ Seeker had both taken sight of the Snitch and were neck and neck at this point. He knew Jen was fast so hopefully she’d get it. She was one of the fastest flyer in the league and she always had great control. His eyes went back to the quaffle and saw Corey score a goal. The crowd cheered at her and he felt relief from that. The game could end soon but if Jen didn’t get the snitch they could try to get ahead by scoring goals. 

The Cannons got a hold of the quaffle and were already zooming towards him, he kept his eyes on them, he wasn’t going to let them score this time. He was ready to save it but his concentration broke from the sound of the whistle. 

He looked quickly at Jen and saw she had the snitch in her hand and was grinning wildly. Relief hit his chest and whooped his arm in the air, doing a victory lap around the pitch and hooking arm around Corey, who laughed as she whooped too. 

Jen was flying around the pitch in joy and hugged him too when she passed him, laughing in absolute joy. 

Oliver’s eyes went to where his family would be sitting. It was easy to find as it was the front row. He saw his parents and sister Amelia grinning. He felt a knot in his stomach when he realised Shane wasn’t there. Although, he wasn’t surprised. This was typical behaviour for his fiancé. So typical he didn’t know why he expected him to show up at all. He’d rather spend time breathing down his neck to get a different job, one that would be somewhere like the ministry that he could work in until retirement age. Shane didn’t seem to understand his love for the game. Even people who enjoyed it somewhat thought he was a little too passionate. Maybe he should be with someone who understood that. 

He didn’t let his frustration get to him. Mostly because it was time to go to celebrate the win at a pub. 

But maybe what frustrated him most was that he didn’t care he wasn’t there. 

…

The pub was a little crowded when the team got there. It was mostly Puddlemere fans who were still on the high of the win. Oliver was too. He’d given his family a quick hello before running off with Jen and Corey. He was surprised to see Amelia’s husband wasn’t there but she said he had to work late. Jacob was a muggle and still hadn’t completely gotten the grasp of quidditch but he was good support when he was able to make it. He understood it would be difficult to get away from work, especially when the reason was his brother in law was playing in a sport his boss would have never heard of. 

Amelia was pretty lucky that their parents were accepting of muggles. They’d never expressed concern about their grandchildren being half-bloods. Neither Oliver nor his sister expected prejudice from them, they were completely against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s beliefs. His parents went on about how much they loved Jacob. 

Their thoughts on Oliver being engaged to Shane was… somewhat complicated. Not, throw him out of the house for being gay complicated. But still, at least a little complicated. 

Shane would usually come to the pub with him after games. His team had said they liked him. But Shane could be somewhat of a workaholic. He worked at the ministry and always brought plenty of paperwork home. As if he wanted to bring work home with him. Oliver couldn’t comprehend that. It was like back at Hogwarts when he’d have to bring piles of homework to the Gryffindor common room. His final two years when he was trapped doing N.E.W.Ts was by far the worst part of his schooling. 

He decided to keep his mind on Jen and her girlfriend Luce. It didn’t matter if Shane wasn’t there. He liked spending time with the team anyway. He’d always liked Jen’s girlfriend as well. She was really sweet and he liked how supportive she was of Jen. He can’t think of a game she didn’t come to. He’d always see her in the bleachers cheering her on. 

Thankfully, neither of them had asked him if Shane was coming. They had an idea of what Shane was like. Not that he occasionally discouraged his entire career but that he sometimes got overwhelmed with work that he had to miss his games.

That was the nice way of putting it at least. The way to put it that didn’t make Shane look like he was unsupportive asshole that Oliver was more or less settling for. Maybe using ‘settling’ wasn’t the best way to put it. He’d been the one to propose to Shane after all. 

Oliver tried to keep his attention on Jen talking about her and Luce’s trip to Australia. She kept mostly on how the weather was so different, since they had gone during their winter to avoid the hot weather. He’d never been much of a traveller so it was interesting to hear other people’s stories. 

“Wood,” a voice cut into one of Jen’s stories. Oliver knew that voice and decided to pretend he hadn’t heard him. 

“Yeah, so what happened?” he prompted. 

Jen glanced where the voice came from but seemed to decide to continue. “Uh, so, it was far too cold to go to any beaches,” she said. “We met some cool witches though.”

He nodded. “I don’t know if I would like beaches,” he laughed. “But Australia is probably the best place to go for them.” 

She opened her mouth to reply, but she got cut off by the same voice again. “Wood, ya hear me?”

Jen deflated a little, glancing at Luce who was frowning. He could already see him approaching in the corner of his eye. 

He sighed. “Just go, I can handle him.”

“You sure?” Jen asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. He doesn’t scare me.”

Luce looked reluctant but Jen took her hand and walked away.

Oliver puffed his chest and turned to him. “What do you fucking want, Roberts?”

Chad Roberts was the Cannons’ Keeper and more or less, a proper wanker. He would call him his biggest rival in the league. At little bit of a stretch since the Cannons weren’t Puddlemere’s biggest rivals, that was more the Falcons. But he got along fine with their Keeper. She kept everything on the pitch.

Roberts wasn’t anything like that. He was the type who would try his hardest to intimidate him, off and on the pitch. Before and after each game, without fail, no matter who won that game. It’d become routine at this point. Not one he was fond of at all though. Roberts was the all talk type of bloke. He’d hurl whatever insult came to him, mostly hollow ones that had to do with his keeping, or point out every time he was hit by a bludger. 

Oliver actually found it hilarious. Instead of focussing on himself and his own keeping skills, he cared more about tearing him down. 

A smirk was on Roberts lips as he approached him. “Well, your keeping wasn’t so terrible today.”

Yep, his usual same and tired insults. “Enough for us to win,” he shrugged. 

“Well, I’m sure that bludger left a nasty bruise on you, huh?” he smirked.

It was like he planned this shit out. “Is that just an excuse to see my abs?” he smirked, raising his brow. “Because sorry to disappoint but I’m spoken for.”

Usually he wouldn’t resort to those sort of jokes but he might as well give a comeback he wouldn’t expect. That way he could get away when he was surprised and go back to talking to Jen. After getting alcohol to calm his nerves.

And that idea seemed to work, as Roberts seemed surprised by the comment. He smirked and went to leave but he was only a few steps away from him before he spoke. 

“God, I’ll always wonder why they let a poof play.”

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned back to him. The comment got the attention of a few people around them who had gone dead silent. Clearly, they couldn’t believe what Roberts had said either. Or they wanted to see if this escalated into a fight. 

Oliver wasn’t an aggressive person. He had his buttons like everyone else and push him hard enough, it wouldn’t end well. 

Which was why it wasn’t a good thing anger was bubbling in his chest.

He walked a few steps towards him. “What the, fuck did you just call me?” He punctuated each word, venom leaking in his voice. Because there were things he’d let slide, there were things he could ignore and let go. 

But anything to do with him being some pathetic man because he was gay was the one thing he couldn’t let slide. 

Roberts however, bit off more than he could chew. And he hadn’t seemed to have realised yet. “I said what I said,” he snarled, a sadistic grin crossing his face. “I get that you’re a poofta and all but there’s no need to act like one.”

His fist clenched and he gritted his teeth. He stepped forward again so they were practically nose to nose. 

“Call me that again,” he said, his tone low and warning. “And I swear to god you will regret it.”

“Oliver,” he heard Jen say behind him. He knew he should listen and leave well enough alone. He knew Roberts wasn’t worth the effort. He knew he was just trying to get a reaction out of him. That’s all he wanted, probably because he knew who was the better Keeper of the pair. 

He should’ve just turned to leave, maybe just go home to Shane. That was what the reasonable, rational person would do. 

But Oliver was the opposite of that.

“You heard what I said,” Roberts said, his voice low. “You’re a goddamn poofta and I don’t know how they ever let the likes of you into the league.”

His fist meeting his jaw was by far the most satisfying thing he could do. 

“Oliver!” Jen shouted.

“Wood!” someone else yelled. He realised it was his teammate Will. 

He didn’t have any regrets, and he got a sick joy when he saw he’d made his nose bleed and a bruise already start to form on his jaw. 

“You fucking–” Roberts growled but Oliver cut him off. 

“You really want to call me that again?” he bit. He only got a glare in response. 

He took a deep breath and turned to leave. He heard Jen call his name but he just stormed out of the bar. Once he was outside and he had taken a few deep breaths to calm down, he Disapparated home. 

When he was home, he saw Shane at the dinner table, still with paperwork. He’d assume by now he would be close to done but apparently not. 

“I’m home,” he said. He would think the crack of him Apparating into the room should get his attention but he kept his head down.

“Yeah, I heard, Oliver,” he said, not even looking up as he got more ink on his quill. “How was the game?”

You would know if you were there. He thought bitterly. “We won,” he said instead. 

“That’s good,” he replied. “Sorry I couldn’t make it, I’m swamped and all.”

He gave him a fake smile, ignoring how he hadn’t sounded genuine at all. “It’s fine,” he said. Maybe he didn’t care at all that his own fiancé didn’t come to his game when he well enough could have. He wasn’t held back at work and if he really had too much work there was the entire weekend to work. 

Oh the worst part was that he didn’t care how little Shane cared. How could he just not care? It was like he wouldn’t care if he walked right out the door right then and never came back. Which maybe wasn’t the ideal way to think about your fiancé. 

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Shane asked, staring at his hand, clearly worried. 

Confused, Oliver looked at his hand and saw the bruised knuckle. There were a few cuts, maybe from getting Roberts’ teeth a little. 

“Oh,” he shrugged, dropping his hand down. “Cannons’ Keeper called me a poofta, one thing led to another and I punched him in the face.”

His eyes widened and he stood up. “Are you serious? Why the hell would you do that?”

He shrugged. “He egged me on, and honestly, he kind of deserved it.”

He shook his head. “No, Oliver,” he said. “He didn’t.”

He gaped a little at him. “Are you serious? He called me a poofta three times. You think I’d let him get away with that?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “He shouldn’t have said it, you’re right about that. Bashing him isn’t the answer though.”

“Well, I think I should stand up to myself. Especially that kind of homophobic bullshit.”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe you should’ve just walked away instead of letting him egg you on.”

His teeth sunk into his lip in anger. “You weren’t there so maybe don’t go throwing around an opinion on the situation.” Even though technically he could’ve walked away and didn’t. But maybe also if Shane was there he could’ve stopped him, put some sense in his head. But Shane wouldn’t let him hold that against him. 

Shane took a deep breath. “Oliver, I’m sorry I didn’t come. I’ll try to make the next game–”

“You said that last time.”

He pressed his lips together in a fine line. “Oh, so that’s what this is about, huh?” he asked. “That I wouldn’t go to your boring as shit game.”

“We met when I was on the reserves,” he argued. “You knew this was my dream.”

“You were also eighteen–” he began but rage got to Oliver again.

“So were you!” He acted as if he had the world figured out at fifteen. As if they weren’t the same age and he somehow knew everything there was to know about the world when they met. 

But Shane didn’t seem to hear him. “–I thought you would come to your senses and realise you needed a real job. Not you flying around on some broomstick.”

He knew Shane hated sports. Really hated sports, actually. And honestly, Oliver would be okay with that if he didn’t use every opportunity to make him feel terrible for loving quidditch as much as he did. For wanting it to be his life focus. Why couldn’t he just be supportive of him like other players’ partners were. He seemed to care more about making him think his one true passion was pathetic and not worth anyone’s time. 

He wasn’t always like this. At one point he actually showed up to games, and when he didn’t he seemed genuinely sorry about it and wished him good luck, and when we got home would ask for a play by play.

Half the time he asked himself why he put up with it. He wasn’t sure anymore. But he loved him. He was sure he loved him. He was the first guy he dated, not the first one he liked. He was the first guy to actually not be an unrequited crush. Maybe that was why he was so hard to let go. He knew that might not be the healthiest line of feeling, nor was it something that could end well if they somehow got into something they couldn’t fix. 

But they were engaged, he asked him to marry him for a reason. Because he loved him. He did want to marry him. He was sure he did. He’d been so emotionally vulnerable with him and the thought of it being for nothing terrified him. 

He took a deep breath. “Forget it,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oliver!” he called as he stormed off to their room, closing the door behind him and finding it difficult to not slam it behind himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Marcus carefully closed the door behind him as he stepped out of the muggle man’s flat. He hadn’t intended on sleeping as long as he had but the one too many shots he’d had the night before made him slip right into sleep when his head hit the pillow after they had finished. He was usually good at high tailing it out of there once they were both finished. Hopefully this guy hadn’t gotten any idea in his head from that one mistake. Last time he fell asleep at a guy’s house, said guy had insisted on giving him his phone number, which he tore up as soon as he left. He didn’t have a phone anyway, and only knew what one was because his sister had married a muggle. But even if he did have one, he hadn’t wanted to have any actual relationship with the guy. Thankfully, the guy he met last night was still asleep when he left. 

He needed a shower, he could still smell the guy on him. A mixture of cigarette smoke, whisky, and bad cologne. Maybe still some of his sweat and whatever other bodily fluid got onto him. Amy and John didn’t live too far from there so he could walk there instead of finding a safe place to Disapparate from. He needed a damn shower to scrub off the stench. And he was starving and had already spent all his muggle money so he had nothing to buy breakfast with until he got home. His sister adored him so he could easily get food out of her. 

He probably looked like he had just left someone else’s house. Whether it was what were clearly clothes from the night before or the messy hair he hadn’t had a chance to fix up before leaving, he knew if you looked at him long enough you would know how he spent his night. His sister wasn’t a nosy person so she wouldn’t be asking any questions, especially ones she could get the answer to by looking at him. Her husband was more into making jokes than asking straight questions, and if he were as obvious as he thought then he wouldn’t miss the chance. 

The walk was shorter than he thought it would be and he got to Amy’s house a lot sooner than he had thought it would take. Probably for the better since it was almost winter and he was freezing out there. 

When he knocked on the door, John looked like he’d just woken up as he answered it. 

“Oh, hey Marcus,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes. 

He nodded and walked passed him inside. “Room for ‘nother at breakfast?” he asked, smiling at the smell of pancakes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good night?”

“Great,” he said and walked to Amy who was in the kitchen, waving her wand as she used magic to make breakfast. “Hey, sis,” he said.

She glanced at him and smiled. “Morning, Marc,” she said. “You’re lucky I made enough batter for a few days’ worth. We’ll have enough for at least an hour with you here.”

John snorted behind them as he sat at the table. “Yeah, and somehow you still have a six pack, lucky you. Are there magical steroid or something?”

Marcus laughed and shrugged. “No, I just work out a lot. Never kicked the habit after playing sports in school.”

He hadn’t played sport since. Playing quidditch professionally had only been a dream, one that wouldn’t make his parents happy. Working at Gringotts seemed to have satisfied them enough. 

Besides, he had disappointed them in several other ways. Not as much as Amy with her decision to marry a muggle though. Him not becoming a Death Eater was one way. 

There were other ways, for sure. His parents seemed to take a lot of joy in tearing him apart all the time. He’d gotten used to it at this point, 

He liked working at Gringotts at least. His boss, Bill Weasley, wasn’t too bad of a guy, and probably liked him best of the Weasley he’d met. Nowhere near as annoying as whatever his name was who was in the level below him – and the same when he got held back – or as big of as smartass as the twins or as… okay, he couldn’t think of anything necessarily bad about Charlie. He was in his seventh year when he got captain and from what he remembered, he was actually kind of okay. Albeit, a little obsessed with dragons and not enough focus on quidditch at times. He still liked Bill most, and he was also a quidditch fan. He always gave a good debate when he needed it. 

“Do you want anything on your pancakes?” Amy asked when he sat down. 

He smiled. “Got and berries?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Accio berries,” she casted and the fridge opened as the berries flew out. She put the pancakes on a plate and put the berries on top. “Done.”

He smiled and dug in. His sister had always been a good at baking, and had made him treats ever since they were kids. Lucky for him, that hadn’t changed.

“How’s mum and dad?” she asked, setting down a plate for herself and John.

Ever since she had married a muggle, their parents had more or less cut off communication with her. They hadn’t outright disowned her or anything like that, they just needed time to get used to it. Even though it had been two years since they’d seen her. He still assured her they would stop being stubborn eventually. 

But his parents could be angry for a long time. And when they didn’t like something any of their children did, they’d hold it against them for as long as possible. If it was a small mistake, it could last a month. If it was a life decision they disapproved of, it could last years. If it was something that they couldn’t help, well… it would last their entire life from what he could tell so far. 

His parents’ disapproval of his sexuality and their disapproval of John had kind of brought him and Amy closer. If things ever blew up in their faces and their parents didn’t want to talk to them anymore, they had each other (and their brother and sister too at least). 

“They’re okay,” he answered through a mouthful of pancakes. “They’re making me and Chris come over to dinner tomorrow. Apparently some other pureblood family will be there.”

She scrunched her nose at him. “First off, please don’t talk with your mouth full,” she scolded, John snickering a little. He swallowed his food. She really was no different from how they were as kids. “So, some pureblood family, huh?”

He shrugged. “They were vague,” he said. “If some girl around my age is there I’ll have to stop myself from walking out.”

John frowned at him. “They’d really do that?”

“They sure had hinted enough,” he grumbled, taking another mouthful of pancakes. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, that’s awful.”

He shrugged. John had a vague idea of how his parents felt about Marcus being gay. That being, it was far from their favourite thing in the world. He knew all too well about how far muggles’ disapproval of having a gay child could go. He once slept with a guy who ended up babbling about how his parents kicked him out when he came out to them and hadn’t seen them since. 

He knew it wasn’t uncommon – it wasn’t even necessarily unheard of – for parents in the wizarding community to disapprove of their kid being gay. It was more common around pureblood families, especially ones who wanted to keep the bloodline going. If you only had one kid, therefore the only chance of continuing the bloodline, and they were gay, then those parents wouldn’t have the most positive reaction.

At least he could marry a man if he later decided to, which muggles couldn’t do. He found that out through John after he made a joke about never getting a husband. He seemed pretty surprised he could marry a man at all. John had mentioned his uncle was gay and he still couldn’t marry his partner of twenty years. It was kind of upsetting to hear actually. 

He just shrugged. “It’s fine, they’ll get over it,” he said. They would eventually. When he was younger he was obsessed with rebelling against them. Whether it was playing in the dirt as a kid, playing quidditch when he went to Hogwarts, failing his seventh year, not becoming a Death Eater, and having sex with a lot of muggle men. All were enough to piss of his parents. Hell, if he were ever in a committed relationship – something still pretty laughable – with another man, pureblood or muggle, his parents will be pissed he didn’t go off with a pureblood girl instead. 

There was still a chance they wouldn’t get off of him and never accept this part of him. They compared him far too much to Chris. Especially since Chris was now dating a pureblood girl and there’d be far too much comparing between them. They were already conditioning his little sister Juliet, who was still in her final year of Hogwarts for crying out loud, into being the opposite of Amy and ready to go and marry a pureblood guy. Knowing their parents they already had someone picked out for her and were ready to force him onto her. He still remembered when he told his parents he was gay after introducing him to way too many heiresses, ones who seemed as interested as he was. He always cut to the chase and told them he was gay, which always got a relieved look. It made him wonder how many heirs they had met that took advantage of the situation, or feared they would. 

Amy gave him a sad look. “How’s Chris’s girlfriend?” she asked.

“She’s nice,” he said. “Chris likes her a lot.” She was pretty nice and didn’t see a reason to dislike her. The only bad thing was that it made him look worse in his parents eyes. He wasn’t the type to hold that against either of them. It wasn’t their fault their parents were like this. 

“I hope I get to meet her soon,” she said. 

He nodded and smiled a little. Their parents letting her back into the house or even wanting to acknowledge her existence seemed like it would take its time.

…

Terence and Adrian’s flat was kind of small but Adrian always described it as cosy. 

He should probably head home and shower but he’d realised he hadn’t seen them in a while. They’d all been so busy with work that seeing each other was difficult. It had been like that since he had graduated six years ago, and they’d never gotten that hang of it. Maybe that was half of being an adult. 

Lucky for him, they were okay with him dropping in unexpectedly, for the most part at least. But even when they weren’t in the mood for company they usually just grunted and let him in.

Today, Terence greeted him with a smile. 

“Hey, mate,” he said, a mug of coffee in his hand. “Long-time no see.”

Marcus grinned and walked in. It was kind of late in the morning but they both looked like they just woke up. 

Marcus wasn’t the best of getting close to people but Terence and Adrian were the closest to friends he had. If they weren’t lumped together in Slytherin and told they could only be friends with each other he might’ve made a few other friends. But he wasn’t too good at that as a teenager. And that hadn’t changed as an adult. Outside of his siblings, the only other friend he really had was John. Maybe one of the bartenders at the gay bar he always went too as well but they were more friendly if anything. He was a good person to talk to, as bartenders tended to be. He was the one guy who he didn’t care about sleeping with. The whole reason he picked up guys at bars was so he could avoid them afterwards, a bartender would be a bad choice. He liked that bar a lot and wouldn’t want to taint it from sleeping with the wrong person. 

Adrian was spreading jam on some scones at the kitchen table. He glanced up at him. “Hey mate,” he smiled as Marcus pulled out a chair. 

“Hey,” he said and stole one of his scones. 

Adrian looked annoyed but didn’t try to take it back. Instead, his eyes dropped to his neck. “Your night must’ve been fun.” 

He raised his brow. “What makes you say that?” he asked. Sure, he still hadn’t showered but by now he should look at least a little put together.

“Your neck is a dead giveaway.” He tapped a spot on his neck and Marcus mirrored it, placing his hand over that spot. He hadn’t looked in a mirror but he should’ve assumed he had a hickey. That would make John’s teasing comment make a little more sense. 

“Next time you have a hickey I’ll get you back,” he muttered.

Terence snorted as we walked to the kitchen, taking a sip of his coffee. “He won’t because we’re not bloody teenagers,” he said, sitting next to his boyfriend. “How old was this guy? Like, twenty?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t say. He was a university student. He was legal for sure.”

Adrian snorted. “You having some sort of quarter life crisis or something?” he asked. “Sleeping with uni aged students sounds like one.”

“Yeah,” Terence said. “Will you ever be in a relationship? You’re a bit too old to sleep around.” 

He licked the jam off his fingers. He knew the answer to that question. Loving someone terrified him. And the idea of someone actually loving him back seemed impossible. He knew plenty of people avoided relationships after having their heartbroken – like that guy who just went through a breakup when they slept together – and he didn’t want to risk that. He liked sex, he liked it a lot. He’d heard people say it was always better when there were feeling attached to it – being emotionally and physically intimate or something like that – but he could probably never be that emotionally vulnerable with someone. People who had your heart in their hands were the ones who could break it the easiest. And it would be the most painful. He could be intimate and vulnerable with his body. He couldn’t get hurt that way. It was terrifying to him. He didn’t see that happening with any man. 

He didn’t tell them that though. “I’m not interested in any relationships,” he shrugged. “And I haven’t met any guys I like enough to date.” That part was true, but he also hadn’t let himself get to know any guys well enough to want to date them. Not that they needed to know that. 

Terence snorted. “That’s because you don’t like anyone.”

Well, that wasn’t totally wrong. “I like you two – you’re tolerable.”

Terence rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said. “Sure you don’t want to meet any guys we know? If you’re interested at all?”

He scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He hated the idea of being setup with anyone, especially someone his friends knew. He never knew how to talk to guys after he slept with them. On the plus side, the guys he did sleep with wanted as little do with him as he did with them if he saw them at the bar again. 

“Suit yourself,” Terence shrugged, setting his mug down. 

“At least you’re not forcing girls on me,” he snorted. 

Adrian frowned. “They’re still doing that?” he asked, swallowing his scone. 

He nodded. “Not everyone has parents okay with it,” he said bitterly. Adrian and Terence weren’t from particularly prestigious families. They were both purebloods – like the typical Slytherin – but their parents were middle class and didn’t care about blood status. From what they had told him, their parents loved that they were together. That wasn’t even a totally rare thing, especially amongst less prestigious families. They had never gotten accustomed to certain traditions and it was easier to change with the times, rather than hold on tight with old ways of thinking. 

That included being okay with your kids being gay or marrying muggles or those who did both. His parents reaching that level was a dream that still seemed impossible. At this point he’d even take them being begrudging about it, clearly not happy about it but would tolerate it because he was their son, and they should support him in what made him happy. He wasn’t going to go off with some girl just too please them, they would make him miserable. Even if he’d never come out to them and never planned to he would never marry a girl just to make them happy. They had been forcing girls on him since he was fifteen, which ironically around the time he had realised he was gay. But it was after being forced to sit with a girl who he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t have any interest in her. 

His parents had definitely ignored this disinterest, as if him not liking women was as much of a phase as him liking men. Like he’d want to mould himself into what they wanted, to be like Chris. To bring home a pureblood girl, marry her, and have kids with her. They were clearly still holding out on something like that happening. 

Adrian and Terence both gave him sympathetic looks. That’s all they could really do. They were used to their own worlds where they didn’t have to worry about disappointing their parents. Adrian’s older brother had just married a muggle born and Terence had an uncle who marriage a muggle. Their families were completely different. 

He held back a sigh and stood up, taking another one of Adrian’s scones. “I’ll see you two another time.”

They glanced at each other but nodded. “Don’t be a stranger,” Terence said. “You’re welcome any time.”

He gave them a small smile before he Apparated home to his flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Oliver’s vision was blurred. There was smoke, so much smoke. He heard screams around him and flashings of green light. That was the only thing that made the screams stop. The building around him was crumbling down, the walls were crumbling around him. The flashes of green light and the screams increased by the second.

He woke up, his body sweating and trembling as a feeling of dizziness washed over him. 

“Oliver?” came a voice. Shane’s voice. He gripped the sheets under him. He realised his was in his bed

“Oliver,” Shane sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oliver, it’s okay, you’re safe.” He said and Oliver’s heart slowed down from the comfort of his hands in his hair. “You’re here with me, in our bed, in our home.”

He listened to his words and his nerves calmed down, coming back into reality. 

He wasn’t on a battlefield. He wasn’t at war. He was in his home, in his bed, with Shane. He was safe. Shane was safe. There were no threats of Death Eaters or of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 

Once he’d calmed down, he heard Shane sigh in relief. He laid back down next to him and pulled him to his chest. Oliver nuzzled close to him. Ever since the war he’d been having nightmares. Of the war and the battle. Of the deceased people he’d have to carry to the Great Hall. Of Harry dying and the feeling of hopelessness they felt until he came back to life. Of the people he didn’t save before dying, when he could’ve done more than carry dead bodies. 

The war had been over for two and a half years. They’d won the war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead for real this time. 

No matter how many times he reminded himself of that, the dreams came from time to time. They were worse right after the war ended and had lessened over time but sometimes his mind decided to bring him back to the horrors he’d lived through and had tried so hard to forget. 

Shane understood that. He was at the Battle of Hogwarts too, and knew what he had gone through. He was always ready to comfort him, and he was really the only person he could trust to bring him back to reality instead of going into an anxiety attack. He knew how to pull him out of it. He was a clutch for that. 

Maybe that was the only reason he was still with him. Even though his nightmares had lessened over the years, Shane had always been there to bring him back to reality. He hadn’t had a nightmare when he was alone, he wouldn’t know how to get out of it without him to calm him down. He had no damn clue how to control this himself. 

He’d gone through this cycle multiple times. Every time Shane was kind of a jerk to him, he’d remember the good he did in his life. He liked being in his arms like this and snuggled against him. He’d known him for so long, he knew him better than anyone else did. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he broke it off, and it wasn’t like he didn’t care about him. He did. But he was starting to question if he wanted to marry him. And one of the effects of the war was he had trouble opening up to people, to complete strangers. He would have to start over. Shane was there and he was comfortable. 

God, he really was just settling for him. Maybe mostly because of that emotional dependency on him. And how hard it would be to do it again with another guy. That was if he ever met another guy he connected to enough. Shane was the only boyfriend he’d had, he was there when the Daily Prophet caught onto his sexuality and when he had to awkwardly confirm it, he was there at events, he’d introduced him to so many people. He was such a big part of his life, he couldn’t just leave him at this point. Even if a piece of him kind of wanted to.

…

Nothing cleared Oliver’s head better than his morning jogs. Their flat was close to a small wizard village and he always felt relaxed when they would run through it. It wasn’t like the one home in Scotland, the simple village that he sometimes longed to go back to and did when he visited his parents. The small English one was nice though. It was cosy, with cobbled stone streets and small shops. He liked stopping by the small quidditch store from time to time. It was quite quaint, and had the small village feeling. He’d been in London a few times when he went to visit Amelia and Jacob, but he mostly just stayed at their flat. London was too big and confusing to go too far into the city. 

His mind could relax in a village like this. The people were friendly, and since he wasn’t some big time athlete, he was treated like most other people, and no one cared too much about him being a local celebrity. 

He decided to stop by a quidditch shop in the village, he always liked just being around the quidditch supplies. No one really understood why and he couldn’t really explain it. Quidditch was the only thing he’d ever found so much enjoyment in. He didn’t have much other hobbies and between seasons were staying in shape for quidditch. Quidditch was the biggest clutch in his life, like he was nothing without it. He’d always been that guy who was obsessed with quidditch. That was the first thing people thought of when people talked about him. ‘This is Oliver; he likes quidditch.’ Now it was like a coping mechanism, the only sense of normalcy he had after the war. Normal for him was quidditch, and even though he’d lost people in the war, quidditch was the only thing that hadn’t changed even though he had. It was like he was a kid again whose one goal was to win the house cup for Gryffindor. Now it was the same thing on a bigger scale. It was that and Shane. Those were the normal things in his life. He hated change, really hated change. Maybe that’s why the thought of leaving Shane hurt so much. 

When he entered the shop a bell rang and the owner smiled at him. She gave him a hello and he said it back. He should probably get a new broom polishing kit, maybe look at some of the new models of brooms. He was provided a broom by Puddlemere but he enjoyed looking at the new models and staying up to date on them. 

When he picked up the new broom polishing kit, he went straight to the brooms. He saw the new Nimbus 3000’s. They were gorgeous, looking shiny and new. He was ready to drop the galleons on it if he didn’t have the Firebolt 2000. Having that for playing quidditch professionally was definitely a perk of it. When he’d first gotten the Firebolt 2000 he did a good test run on it, definitely impressed with the speed. It brought him back to his final year of Hogwarts and how Harry had gotten a Firebolt original for Christmas from a stranger – which McGonagall unfairly had stripped down to look for a cursesl; Harry could’ve no doubt caught the snitch before it threw him off if it truly had been cursed – and the sheer amount of envy he had felt. Now he owned the brand new model of it! And it was fast as hell. 

It was a nice memory, of the simpler times of his life. As much as he hated doing N.E.W.Ts, Hogwarts was a nice place. He held onto those happy memories because his last memories of Hogwarts was a warzone, not a whimsical place of fun and magic and friends. He had to put his mind on those so he wouldn’t be entirely ruined for him. He hadn’t been back since the war though and that probably didn’t help. But the thought of ever going back made him feel ill. He wasn’t ready to go back to the castle; all he’d see was a place too many innocent lives were lost. He still felt pain over those lost, and how so many good people who’d done no wrong could’ve died. 

He’d thought of Fred and how his was so unfair and tragic. How George was a wreck at the funeral and broke down when giving his eulogy. How George had told him he’d changed his hair colour so he wouldn’t have to see Fred every time he looked in the mirror. How before the war, he’d seen Fred so happy at the opening of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. How excited he was over the opening. How someone so young and so joyous could be gone so easily. Thinking about it always made his blood run cold. It made him feel awful with how ruthless he was to him when he was captain and made them train so early instead of letting him enjoy being a teenager and getting into the usual mischief and mayhem he and George were known for. How he should’ve talked to him more when he left Hogwarts instead of a quick hello and warding off bets at the 1994 Quidditch World Cup. He harboured so much guilt over him dying, as if it was his fault he died. He knew it wasn’t, but a feeling of shame would wash over him when he thought of Fred, as if he could’ve done something to make sure he didn’t die.

He was a typical Gryiffindor in that aspect. Some might call it a hero complex, like he had reasonability to protect people when he really didn’t. He knew he didn’t have an obligation to protect people but in his mind it’d always been the right thing to do and what was right had always mattered to him most. 

Maybe that was why he was struggling to even consider ending things with Shane. The right thing to do was to stay together because breaking up would hurt Shane, would mean all the wedding planning was for nothing, would mean so much that just didn’t seem right to him. You don’t break up with fiancés, he knew that much. It felt wrong, almost like a betrayal to break up with him at this point. 

“Oliver, that you?” 

He glanced to where the voice came from and full on grinned. “Katie! Alicia!” he said.

They smiled back at him. He hadn’t seen them since the war ended and that had definitely been far too long. 

“Hey, Oliver,” Katie said and hugged him. He hugged her back and then hugged Alicia. “Been too long.”

He nodded. “Far too long!” he said. He’d always been somewhat close to Katie and Alicia, the whole team when he was captain really. Katie and Alicia both had a lot of enthusiasm when it came to quidditch, and had always put in their all. Even when they were mad at him for crack of dawn practices, they still played with the best of their abilities. Even during games, they would continue to play while sustaining injuries or got kicked in the face, or hit by a bludger. 

“Congrats on the win the other day, by the way,” Katie said. “Heard you played really well.”

He grinned, letting out a small laugh. “Before Jen got the snitch it was a close game though.” 

“You’re still a really great keeper though, we’ve seen how you’ve improved,” Alicia said. 

“Thanks,” he smiled genuinely. Hearing he was actually good at what he did always brought some sense of joy to him. 

Before he got starting position, training on the reserves was gruelling. Before he had even made the team he’d been terrified of not making it, of not being good enough for it. He’d brought that fear up to Percy – someone else he hadn’t spoken to in a while but had been his best friend at Hogwarts – who told him he was being ridiculous. Aside from the war, the last time he saw him was again, the World Cup. Percy got busy with work at the ministry, he got busy with quidditch. The best out of it was he’d met Shane when he was at the ministry to see Percy in action. He’d introduced them, not having the end results in mind, and Oliver built up the courage to ask him out. Everything had gone from there to now. When Percy had found out, he was a little surprised and expressed dislike for Shane. Back then, he couldn’t really understand it but maybe he saw where it came from now. Although, Shane seemed to hold some distain for Percy as well. That he could understand immediately since Percy could be a little pretentious, and later learnt he believed the ministry over his own family. At least from what his sister Ginny had told him, who he surprisingly gotten to know pretty well now that she’s on the Harpies reserves. 

“So…” Katie hesitated for a moment but continued. “Is it true you punched the Cannons’ Keeper?”

Alicia widened her eyes and elbowed her in the hip. “Katie,” she hissed. 

Oliver frowned. He wasn’t offended by the question, just surprised. He shouldn’t have been. News and gossip travels fast, especially altercations like that. 

“Yeah,” he decided to nod. “I did. But in fairness he called me a ‘poof’ like, three times.”

The girls gaped at him. “Serious?” Katie frowned as empathy crossed both of their faces. Which, of course since they weren’t only both lesbian but a couple too. They’d dealt with passive aggressive shit like that too. 

“I knew there had to be a reason,” Alicia said. “What a wanker.”

He nodded. Most of the public saw Roberts as charming, and he was great at playing up the act in interviews. Most people in the league saw past it. He definitely fell into the typical, spoiled rich pureblood group. Not in the Sacred Twenty-Eight but close enough to have some superiority complex. 

“Well, did Shane stick up for you at all?” Katie asked. “I’m surprised Roberts would say that kind of shit to you in the first place.”

His stomach dropped at the mention of Shane’s name. If Shane had been there he probably would’ve calmed him down from the first slur shot at him, he would’ve pulled him away before the thought of violence even crossed his mind. He knew he’d been antsy after the war and he could get defence over those kinds of threats. But the thing was he wasn’t there and the brought back those upsetting feelings again. 

“Shane wasn’t there, actually, or the game” he said, and shrugged trying to come off as if he was okay with it. He probably didn’t hide it well because they gave him sympathetic looks. 

“He had work stuff,” he added, hoping it’d at least do something to get rid of the looks on their faces. The ‘that’s a horrible thing to do to your fiancé’ sort of look. The look people would give him as if trying to tell him what Shane was doing wasn’t fair to him. 

“Well, he comes to your other games at least, right?” Katie asked, a sense of hope in her voice. Like she was hoping he wasn’t letting a guy who didn’t care about his passion treat him like this. To skip his games when he went to every single ministry event or dinner or anything that families were invited to (they wouldn’t know that part but his mind couldn’t help but go there and that only made him even more internally pissed at him). 

Before they could question or even criticise him, he spoke. “So, how’re you two?” he asked. “Anything happen since we last saw each other?”

The two looked at each other, probably noticing how he hadn’t specifically called it a war. Like the last time they saw each other was a casual meetup, not what it really was. He could barely admit aloud that he’d been part of a war. 

They didn’t even try to correct him though. “We’ve moved in together,” Katie smiled. 

“Oh that’s great!” he said. He remembered how they were in his last year of Hogwarts where they would shyly hold hands and went on sweet dates to the Three Broomsticks, or how they would get distracted by shyly flirting with the other. 

“We live back in London,” Alicia said. “We’re around to visit my mum and dad.”

He nodded. He’d forgotten how nice it was to spend time with them, in a way that was more relaxed. He’d hung around them a lot of the time in his Hogwarts days despite being a few years older than them. Aside from them, he mostly had Percy and he never bothered to make friends with the Gryffindor girls in his year since they either had crushes on him or weren’t interested in being his friend. Katie and Alicia, as well as the rest of the team, were the easiest to befriend. Being social wasn’t one of his strongest points, and the team was the easiest way to make friends. 

They had to leave to go get breakfast so he finished his jog. But he had so much time to think in that time. Too much time, really. 

And he realised something when he got home when he saw him at the dining table, a quill in his hand as wrote on a piece of parchment. It was like a punch in his stomach when realised it, but something he’d known in the back of his mind for months at this point. He should’ve realised this sooner. Or just accepted it sooner. 

He didn’t love him anymore. 

That was the breaking point. Even if he were to settle for him he’d want to still love him. But he didn’t, and that was the perfect formula for an unhappy marriage. He wasn’t a person who accepted failure or defeat, he didn’t give up. Like any other Gryffindor.

But he knew some battles weren’t worth fighting and you had to give up, because it wouldn’t end the way it should. Them happy for the rest of their lives. That was what the ending should be, the perfect fucking fairy tale ending. Even if it wasn’t the one his parents wanted and simply tolerated…

But even with his persistence and his resilience, he was starting to realise they’re at a point where it can’t be fixed. Where they can’t be fixed. It was useless at this point. 

“Shane?” he spoke. 

He didn’t look at him, his eyes stayed on his work. “Hey Oliver,” he said, refilling his quill before going back to writing. 

He almost walked away. He almost gave up, but the dismissive attitude he was giving him reminded him why they won’t work. And why they don’t anymore.

“Shane, we’re done.”

That got his attention. He dropped his quill and stood up. “What?” Hurt crossed his face, clearly surprised to hear this words from him. 

He almost took it back, he almost said he was sorry and it was silly of him to even suggest it. He almost held onto how if he were to breakup with him then he’d be alone when he had nightmares. 

But he didn’t let those fears and anxieties distract from the fact it was unhealthy of him to stay with him for only that reason. His nightmares came less and less, and the severity of them as well. He was capable of taking care of them himself, he’d get a handle on it without him. 

He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be with you.” His tone was firm. He wasn’t backing down. He won’t let Shane make him feel guilty for even suggesting this. He was done. 

Shane shook his head. “Oliver, if you’re upset about–”

“No,” he cut him off. “It’s not about one particular thing, it’s this whole relationship! I’m sick of it. I’m not happy, Shane.”

That made him quiet. Maybe from shock or hurt but he wasn’t sure if he cared. He wasn’t ruthless, he knew this would hurt him. But staying in this relationship hurt him too. 

“So, wedding’s off?” he asked carefully, processing the information. 

He nodded. “Yeah Shane, wedding’s off.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded. “Fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

Being a Curse Breaker seemed to be an exciting job. Bringing back gold to Gringots? Battle jinxes and curses? Sounded like a complicated but well worth it job.

Unfortunately, Marcus didn’t exactly qualify for that and was appointed to sort through the relics found by said Curse Breakers. 

Usually that kind of position would go to goblins but more wizards were starting to work at Gringotts and counting the galleons was the role Marcus had gotten. His father was able to get him the position fresh out of Hogwarts. As if counting money was the only thing he thought he was capable of doing. He’d never taken Arithmancy though, so even if he wanted the Curse Breaker job, he wouldn’t qualify for it. And failing his last year was a stain on his record. He’d consider himself to simply be an idiot, the intelligence of a troll. Like he really did have that troll blood first years would snicker about in his times at Hogwarts, and something people were too cautious to say to his face. Especially after that time he punched Montague in the jaw when he’d informed him of the nickname going around. 

His failing of his final year at had gotten to John, and he had suggested he might have something called ‘dyslexia’. He ended up getting him checked out through some muggle facility and it was confirmed after that. It was no use now, he was out of Hogwarts and the Professors wouldn’t have known how to accommodate to it anyway. Now, clearly the best he could do was counting. Or running whatever errand asked of him. It gave him some of his own independence even though he had his family’s fund. He didn’t have to work if he didn’t want to, but if worse comes to worse, he should give himself something to fall back on if his parents decided to cut him off. 

The job was pretty simply. Count and write down every ten. Simple, easy. He always had to take a moment to make sure he wasn’t writing down anything wrong. That’s how he knew he’d never be a Curse Breaker, Arithmancy would never make sense to his brain. 

His co-worker, Xander always worked next to him and worked quickly that. Marcus always wondered why, since they were paid by the hour. But maybe it was just how people with brains who worked properly were, he thought bitterly. He’d gotten okay at his job. Not great but passable. The goblins didn’t treat the wizards too kindly, and they had caught onto his seemingly lower intelligence, scoffing at the sight of him as if he really were some troll. 

“Afternoon, boys.”

He was almost relieved to hear Bill’s voice. It meant an excuse to take a break for a couple of minutes. 

“Hey Bill,” he said, quickly writing down a ten and glancing up. “Anything good?”

He shook his head. “No luck today,” he grumbled. 

Xander looked up, setting down his quill. “We all have bad days,” he assured. 

He shrugged, stretching his arms over his head. “My wife said she’d bring by some food at least, I’m starving,” he said and sat behind the counter with them. 

Marcus smiled. “I’d love to have someone to bring me food,” he joked. 

Bill smiled, laughing a little at his joke. He would have to admit that Bill was pretty attractive. Even with the werewolf scar on his face. It made him look rugged actually. He didn’t really have a type, but he had a thing for masculine, rough guys. Even if he was straight, and married, he was nice to look at. 

“Speaking of,” he glanced up towards a blonde woman walking towards the counter. Marcus didn’t take much notice of her and went back to work, tuning out their exchange. He’d counted twenty galleons when she left and glanced at Xander to realise he was staring at Bill’s wife . He looked at him curiously and snapped his fingers in his face. 

“Mate?” he asked, an amused smile on his lips. “You okay?”

Xander blinked, and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I uh, don’t know what happened.”

Bill snorted behind him. “She’s part veela,” he said. 

He almost laughed. He didn’t know about veela until 1994 at the Quidditch World Cup. The men around him were hypnotised by the creatures while he sat and watched indifferent, waiting for the game to start. While most of the other men seemed to find the creatures desirable, he was kind of creeped out by them. 

“Oh,” Xander said. He looked at Marcus. “How come you weren’t affected?”

He shrugged. “Gayness probably?”

“Oh right.”

Bill laughed a little. “Fleur has said gay men never seem to be affected,” he confirmed. 

Xander and Bill both knew he was gay. He didn’t bother to hide it, there was no point. His personality didn’t account for it. Most might think it would be easier to avoid questions of girlfriends but he decided to keep it honest. It wasn’t like the opinions of people he didn’t really care about mattered much to him. He’d never been one to care all that much about other people’s opinions, and Bill and Xander didn’t care at all that he was gay. That was the usual, for the most part. Maybe it was because if he wanted to he could bash their face in, but it was a nice thing to have when it was genuine while his parents were still passive aggressive about his sexuality. 

“Knew that after the World Cup in ’94,” he shrugged. “My brother almost threw himself onto the pitch.” He’d taken a lot of joy out of taking the piss on him when the game had ended. Amy and Juliet joined in as well, much to Chris’s annoyance. 

“Really?” Xander asked. “Glad I wasn’t there, if someone who’s part veela has that much power I’d hate to see how much a pure veela would affect me.”

“Really? I thinking they’re fucking creepy,” he said and glanced back at Bill. “No offence.”

Bill just laughed. “Okay, enough talking, get back to work.”

…

Flint Manor had been part of Marcus’s family for generations. Farther back than his direct ancestor, Josephina Flint. His father always had a habit of talking about the manors importance when he was a child. He had memories of his father walking him and his siblings around the gardens, pointing to memorials of ancestors. He had a random memory of when Juliet was three and Amy at fifteen held her hand, and Marcus at ten and Chris at thirteen strayed behind in absolute boredom. 

For Marcus, the manor had never been the happiest place in the world. The light of the manor was his siblings. It was times like that he was thankful he wasn’t an only child. He wouldn’t have survived the dreary estate on his own. A mixture of how big the manor actually was and the distance of his parents’ love. Him and his brother and sisters were left to look out for each other. It was kind of why they were all so close, their parents didn’t give much of a shit about them so they took care of each other throughout a lot of their childhoods. Chris and Amy looked out for him in his first few years of Hogwarts and Marcus repeating his final year meant he could watch out for Juliet. They were all sorted into Slytherin, a surprise to no one, so it made it that much easier. Juliet was able make friends quickly so he couldn’t be that much of a big brother, even though he wouldn’t be too soft in front of the other students. He adored Juliet but even then he wasn’t going to show any sort of vulnerability in front of others. 

He’d built up the tough persona since his second year. Mostly in response due to the weird fuzzy feelings he’d developed towards a sixth year Slytherin boy. Even after the crush went away, the persona had stuck. Especially with his quite vicious way on the quidditch pitch. He’d initially tried to get the Beater position but the captain at the time didn’t think it was a good idea and feared he’d cause a severe injury. But since his aim was so great he got the Chaser position. 

Really, the only people he could be vulnerable with was his siblings. Even then there was a limit. He hadn’t cried in front of any of them since he was fifteen after the less than ecstatic response of his parents when he’d come out to them. He’d promised himself that would be the last time he’d cry over that, and so far it had been ten years since he’d broken down from their harsh attitude. 

He reminded himself of that while he sat across from a pureblood girl – Daphne Greengrass was her name – who was sitting somewhat tensely as she chewed on her food. Her parents Kristina and Cornelius Greengrass sat to her right, and her sister Astoria sat to her right. Astoria was talking a mile a minute to Chris’s girlfriend Nadia LaCour. Chris was sat next to him, while their parents sat at either end of the table. He could feel his father eyeing him, as if waiting for him to suddenly catch interest in Daphne and propose on the spot. 

He really didn’t understand what they’d expected him to do. That he’d give up on being gay decide to court her? He hadn’t even bothered to talk to her, she looked like he wanted to be there as much as he did. He expected she’d had an earful from her parents, telling her to be expecting a courtship from him. He’d show her as little interest as he had, maybe if they were pushed somewhere alone together he’d just use his go to; he’s gay and sorry about their parents pushing them together. 

He’d do it right now if he really wanted to, but he knew better than that. His method of pissing off his parents was the indirect kind. A more self-fulfilling kind rather than one that would result in any real consequences. He never grew too much past his rebellious teenager phase. Maybe that’s why Amy started to date John, even though she fell in love with him. His own reason of sleeping with muggle men was to get back at his parents in a way that was for himself rather than to piss them off. Him being gay was enough to piss them off, even if they rarely showed it. 

The woman sitting across from his was proof enough of that. 

She was avoiding his eye, looking down at her food. He’d never been the best at talking to strangers in this sort of setting. Picking up guys at the bar wasn’t difficult, it was the same process. Approach him, offer to buy him a drink, if he said yes go from there because he’d already know what he wanted. 

He’d be happy to not have to talk at all during the dinner and Disapparate back to his flat when it ended. He rarely saw his parents as it was, and it was always a dreadful affair. A girl being there that his parents shoved him towards always made it worse. 

“Daphne,” Richard Flint spoke, and Marcus practically felt a stab in his stomach. Here came the exhausted routine of his father attempting to incite interest. He took a sip of his wine, hoping it’d calm his nerves when necessary. “You work at the ministry, right?”

She awkwardly chewed on her steak before swallowing. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Administration in the Auror office.” Her tone was uninterested, clearly dreading being spoken to when she wanted to leave. 

“A Ministry job is a great position to have,” Ursula Flint said, neatly cutting pieces of her steak into small pieces before taking a bit. 

“Marcus works at Gringotts,” Richard said and Marcus was ready to leave at that point.

“You do?” Cornelius asked, intrigue in his tone. “A Curse Breaker I’m assuming?” 

He held back a groan. He took another sip of his wine before he answered. “That department, I just count the gold.”

Kristina raised a brow at him. “You count the gold?”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he shrugged. Cornelius’s jaw clenched slightly. He definitely wasn’t happy with him as a prospect for his daughter. 

“It is a good job at least, I’m sure” Kristina said but her smile was weak. “I’m sure work isn’t your only passion.”

Work wasn’t at all a passion. He still loved quidditch above all things, and when he quit he drew more. He’d loved drawing as a kid and it was the only thing that he really did now that he’d stopped playing quidditch all together. When there was no gold to count he did get in the habit of sketching. It was a relaxing place for his mind to go. Admittedly it was no different than how he was in school. Which was probably attributed to failing his N.E.W.Ts. 

He didn’t say that, he just continued to eat. 

Cornelius looked at Richard. They’d noticed they weren’t getting anywhere with their desired pair off. Daphne still wasn’t looking at him, but he hoped she’d caught onto his disinterest. 

Their parents sure hadn’t though, which they made clear by continuing their nudges. 

“Marcus,” Kristina said. “Your mother told me you played quidditch when you attended Hogwarts.”

He glanced at Christopher who looked ready to roll his eyes but just ate his dinner. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah,” he shrugged. 

She looked at Daphne. “Did you remember seeing his games, Daphne?” she asked. 

She took a sip of her own wine. “I don’t remember,” she mumbled. “Too young.”

“Oh, but I’m sure you remember something?” Ursula prompted. “Marcus sure made an effort to be memorable.”

He didn’t, at least to himself. He just cared about winning, and he had gotten a little violent. He was passionate about it for so many years of his life. 

He really should’ve gone professional. He regretted not, and it was too difficult to get into the league at his age. The teams would favour the younger prospects. And he was way out of practice at this point. At least he was still in shape, but that was more for himself if anything. Well, and most guys sure liked it. 

“I still don’t,” she mumbled, annoyance in her tone. “I never really paid attention to quidditch.”

Proof they’re a horrible match right there. If he were going to marry someone, he’d have to love quidditch. Or at the very least enjoy it. But he’d love someone who he could debate the topic with. 

“Do you still play quidditch, Marcus?” Kristina asked. Clearly the conversation was staying on quidditch. 

He shook his head. “No, there’s no time,” he said. 

“You were great at it, I’m sure?” Cornelius asked. 

Before he could answer, his father bet him to it. “He was captain, actually.” 

Cornelius looked impressed. “Impressed any girls?”

He didn’t miss Chris’s snort and that it stopped Nadia and Astoria’s conversation. Nadia knew he was gay and definitely looked interested to see where this would lead. He even noticed his parents’ tense. 

“Wouldn’t know,” he said, his tone stiff. “Never paid attention to girls.” He didn’t miss the displeased looks from his parents. 

He looked at him curiously. “Too focussed on your studies, I’m assuming?”

The look Richard sent him was a pure, don’t you dare. If he wasn’t so bitter at his parents for setting him up with another heiress, he would’ve just left it. But for the past ten years they’d shoved so many towards him they must’ve been running out. There were only so many pureblood heiresses. And he was exhausted for the same cycle.

“No, I’m gay actually,” he answered casually and took a sip of his wine. 

Relief crossed Daphne’s face as Cornelius and Kristina hid their disappointment. Clearly they weren’t expecting a prospect for their daughter to have no interest in women. 

Ursula steered the conversation into another direction and from the way Richard’s eyes were burning into him, he was going to get an earful really soon. He felt a stab in his stomach, he’d never seen his father look at him like that. 

None of the parents of the heiresses ever knew why he was so uninterested. The cycle was always being introduced, telling the girl he was gay at the first chance if they were ever alone, the girl being relieved, and her parents just assuming he was uninterested, even picky for all he cared. But now that not only one of said parents knew but the Greengrass’s of all people, he knew it would spread rather quickly. 

Therefore, no more heiresses for his parents to shove onto him. And possibly anger from those parents at his own for neglecting to mention that piece of information they had clearly known. 

His parents probably expected him to just put up with it and take each punch without a fight. But there was something about that comment about if quidditch impressed girls, and how that assumption set something off in him. Which was odd because so many people did assume he was straight, complete strangers typically. He’d gotten used to it, but when this man was expecting him to court his daughter, it felt almost necessary to make things clear. 

The Greengrass’s left and that would usually be Marcus’s chance to leave and Disapparate home to his flat. That was the usual, and he was ready for a hot shower and his bed. The best thing about tonight was a nice hot dinner and seeing Chris and Nadia. 

Of course, since the Greengrass’s were gone, his parents had clearly thought it was the best time to confront him, or really berate him, for what he’d said during dinner. 

“What the fuck, Marcus!” Richard snapped at him. Nadia and Chris were leaving but they stopped in their tracks, looking back at them. Marcus stopped his shoulders from tensing but hit stomach went into knots. He knew they wouldn’t let him leave without this happening, but he hoped he would be able to sneak away at least and delay it until later. 

He turned to his father, and he saw he was practically red. “What?” he asked, keeping his tone uninterested and slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“What you said to Mr Greengrass!” he shouted, and gritted his teeth. 

Marcus shrugged. “He asked.”

“No he didn’t!” he argued, his face flushing in anger. “You don’t go telling that shit to families like that!”

He clenched his jaw. Of course he wasn’t meant to. “What? I wasn’t going to do anything about his daughter anyway, like you wanted me to.” 

“This shit is going to spread, you know that, right!” he said as if Marcus hadn’t pointed out anything.

Anger was building in his chest. He really didn’t want to listen. Because his father didn’t care and he didn’t want to care. He was going to continue with this attitude towards him, because he hated that he was this way. Maybe he and Ursula genuinely thought this wasn’t a phase but an act of rebellion. It would explain why they wouldn’t stop trying to marry him off to the girl of their choice.

“Good,” he grunted. “I don’t care.” He was more or less thankful. There already weren’t many heiresses left for him and that little bit of information would bring the number down to zero. It was a relief if anything. 

Richard was still red. He was looking at him in a way he never had. As if he was less of a person, as if he wasn’t his son. 

“Marcus,” he said slowly. “Stop this bullshit. I don’t know why you’re keeping this up.”

There was that slap in the face. After years of their passive aggressive behaviour, he was finally telling him to change himself. He could handle the subtle way they had done it for years. It was less than ideal but he could live with it, he was used to the unloving behaviour. Not this, where he was looking at him as if he’d failed him. Like he’d betrayed him. It was similar to the one he’d given Amy when she said she was marrying John. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Chris was at his side looking at their father. 

“Dad, please don’t act like this,” he said. 

He glared at him. “This doesn’t concern you, Christopher,” he snarled. 

“He’s my brother, it concerns me,” he shot back. Marcus almost smiled. He and Chris could be close when it came down to it. They cared about each other and stood up for each other, just as much as they would for their sisters. He’d never been out at Hogwarts but at the time Chris had been in his final year. By then he’d told his family and Chris had promised that if he’d been out at Hogwarts he’d stand up to anyone who’d bothered him. It was before Marcus had his growth spurt and Chris had a little height and muscle on him. Now he was the bigger of the two but he never grew out of the protective big brother phase of his life. 

He was never more thankful of that than in that moment. If he hadn’t, he would’ve shown the kind of weakness he never wanted to show to anyone, especially his father. 

“It doesn’t concern you because you haven’t done anything wrong,” Richard said. 

He hated how much he’d implied with that statement. He still wanted him to be like Chris, dating and probably marrying a pureblood girl. But that wasn’t him and it would never be. 

He shook Chris off of him and stepped towards his father. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you,” he bit at him. “I guess now everyone will know what a terrible failure of a son I am.” 

Richard glared at him. Marcus may not care what others thought of him but his father did. And anything he’d done wrong reflected badly on him. He no doubt received a lot of shame when he’d failed his final year. That amount of wizards who cared about other family’s lives to that extent didn’t make sense to him. It never had. But his father did care, and so did his mother. It was clear they cared about their reputation rather than their own children.

“Richard,” Ursula stepped forward and squeezed his shoulder. “Another time,” she whispered and looked passed Marcus and Chris’s shoulders at Nadia who was awkwardly standing behind them. At least she would know what she was potentially marrying into. 

Richard was still watching Marcus with a distasteful look. It made him feel smaller than he was. The look was shrouded in how disappointed he was in him. He’d never been one to care about his parents’ approval but he’d take anything over being looked like he wasn’t their son. 

He took a deep breath. He wanted to shout and say he was sorry he wasn’t Chris. That he’d never be the way that way they wanted him to be. 

Instead, he took out his wand, not missing his father’s flinch, and Disapparated to his flat. 

He felt relief when he was in his room. He set his wand on his bedside table and took a deep breath. 

His father was a goddamn bastard. That’s all he knew for sure. He’d never be happy unless things went his own way, the way he fucking approved of. That was the only way he cared about. 

Fuck breathing. Fuck trying to take this calmly. Fuck these expectations. And fuck his parents’ disapproval. 

He clenched his fist and slammed it into the wall. He ignored the pain shooting up his arm as his first went right through the wall. Tears prickled his eyes as his legs buckled under him and he sunk to the ground. That was when the tears really started to come down his face. His eyes stung from his tears as his nose clogged up to the point he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think about fixing the wall or his hand. 

He was always going to be nothing but a disappointment to them.


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange how after sleeping next to someone for years, any bed would feel empty. 

Oliver didn’t miss what took up that space.

Maybe it had to do with it not even being his own bed. It was Amelia and Jacob’s bed in their guest room. But he remembered in the Honeymoon phase of his and Shane’s relationship that any bed that didn’t have him in it felt empty. Even though it felt weird there was no one to fill up the space, he didn’t miss Shane’s place next to him. 

After he’d broken up with him he packed his things and Disapparated to Amelia’s flat. Lucky for him, she and Jacob took him in immediately and let him stay in the guest room for as long as he needed. He was already planning on finding a new flat to stay in, one that definitely wasn’t in the same village as his and Shane’s was. Maybe he’d find somewhere in London, or near Diagon Alley. Maybe he’d move back to Scotland and find a nice village there, possibly in the muggle area even. He was still trying to figure it out. 

His parents hadn’t been so pleased to hear the news of the breakup. Not furious but this far into wedding planning wasn’t the best time to change his mind. It made him think of how his parents would tell him that they were happy that even though he was gay, he had a man as ‘great’ as Shane’. As if that him being gay wouldn’t be okay if he didn’t have Shane or someone they had approved of. He’d given up on getting actual respect from them. He didn’t even care that much. They were a little micro-aggressive but he knew they weren’t trying to be. It was still frustrating to deal with but he knew things could be worse. 

He’d mostly been locked up in the room, sleeping the day away. He hadn’t had practice recently so he had nothing to do but lay in bed. 

Lucky for him, he was able to get away without people knowing where he’d gone. Amelia and Jacob hadn’t told anyone he was staying with them thankfully, so he had at least a few days of peace until he went back to the flat for the rest of his things so he could eventually move into a different flat. 

Right now, he was distracting himself with muggle technology. Namely the television. He just watched it from his bed, staying dressed in nothing but pyjama pants. Fortunate for him Amelia let him, and she and Jacob had work anyway so he was left alone most of the day anyway. 

He was watching some American muggle show when the door opened and Amelia stepped in. She closed the door behind her. “Hey, little bro,” she said. 

He squinted at her. “Is it four already?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Have you just watched Friends all day?” she asked, glancing at the television. 

So that was what it was called. “Nothing else to do,” he said.

She frowned at him. “Okay, I’ve let you lounge in here for three days, you need to get up.”

He pulled the sheet over his head and groaned a little. “I’m allowed to,” he said. 

She pulled the sheet off of him. “I know you don’t know how to do breakups, but you need to get up. You can’t live like this.”

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “What the hell am I meant to do it?” 

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Move on,” she said. “You broke up with him for a reason.” 

He knew she was right. The idea of moving on fast didn’t seem right. He’d been in that relationship for so long that he wasn’t sure how he’d find someone else. That was half the reason he stayed in that relationship, he liked having someone around in that way. He wasn’t sure what he would do now, how did he even move on? It was hard enough finding Shane. How was he meant to do this again? Would he even like a guy like that again? 

“How do I even move on?” he muttered, staring at his lap. 

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know, figure it out,” she said. “Can you eat something at least?”

He sighed and got up. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. 

Amelia scrunched her face at him. “Okay, maybe showed first. You stink.” 

Okay, not a bad idea. He hadn’t showered since before he’d left Shane. Which was a little gross since he hadn’t showered after the jog that ended with the breakup. 

It was actually nice to shower and get dressed. Maybe that was what he needed instead of lying in bed. 

He stayed in longer than he probably should’ve. He really needed a nice hot shower, it was a nice cool down after everything. It felt like he was cleaning off the past few days. The guilt, the stress, the hurt. It was what he needed after lying in bed for so long. It definitely helped clear his head which was well needed. 

When he got to the dining table, dinner was sitting waiting for him to his relief. Amelia and Jacob had already started to eat and glanced at him when he came in. 

“I’m just going to assume you used up all the hot water?” Amelia asked as he sat down. 

“Sorry,” he said, pushing his wet hair back. “Needed that shower.”

She shrugged. “At least you don’t stink anymore. That’s all I wanted.”

He smiled. “I thought you also wanted me to move on.”

“That too.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jacob said before taking a bite of his food. “Breakups are always hard. You just need to move on.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he said. “I don’t even know how I’d find another guy, especially one that was into me.”

“Just go to a gay bar,” he shrugged. “Sure you’d find someone to help you move on.”

Amelia grimaced. “Please don’t discuss this kind of stuff in front of me, I’m eating.”

Oliver ignored her and looked at Jacob. “Wait, muggles have those kind of bars?”

He nodded. “Not from personal experience–”

“You don’t need to clarify that.” 

“–But yes, they’re a thing,” he said. “You can find one in London on my computer, might find someone you like.” 

Amelia scrunched her nose. “Again, my brother.”

Oliver laughed. “Okay, thanks,” he said. “I’ll try and find something and go tonight.” 

“I’ll boot everything up.”

He nodded even though he had no idea what any of those terms had meant. It was time to move on.

…

That bar wasn’t too far into London. He’d Apparated in the Leaky Cauldron before walking from there. It wasn’t too long of a walk so he would get there soon enough. Amelia had given him muggle money for the night which would hopefully go towards alcohol.

He found the bar and he felt his heart beating in his ears. This wasn’t something that should be so difficult, but it had been six years since he’d been in this position. He was so used to being in a relationship that he had no clue how to start a new one. 

When he stepped inside it became even more apparent. 

It wasn’t too busy, most people seemed to be there with friends. He looked at some of the guys and the ones he thought were hot seemed to be pre-occupied. 

He really did have no idea how to approach a guy. Maybe if he sat at the bar counter and get a drink someone would approach him. He could only hope.

But he did need a drink to calm his nerves so he made his way to the bar’s counter and ordered a beer. The bartender was kind of cute but he knew it would be inappropriate to flirt with someone when they were working. 

“New around here?” said bartender asked when he set down a bottle of beer. 

“Something like that,” he said and took a sip. “Just went through a breakup.” 

The bartender gave him a sad look. “Sorry mate,” he said. 

He shrugged. “Well, my goal is to move on.”

“Well, good people are here so good luck.”

He thanked the bartender as he went to serve two women. He looked over his shoulder to see if there was anyone to talk to. He scanned the room to see if anyone caught his eye. Then his eyes stopped on a figure sitting alone in the back, his head down as he drew and a half a bottle of beer next to him.

Marcus Flint. 

He gaped a little, not sure how to even react to the sight of him. He hadn’t even so much as thought of Marcus since they’d graduated. He’d gloated about winning the house cup and Marcus had sneered at him, pointing out how they only one because Harry had a Firebolt. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more about seeing the man in a muggle gay bar, the muggle part or the gay part. He had no clue Marcus was like him. He’d spent his Hogwarts years assuming all they had in common was quidditch. Most of that time was seeing him as nothing but the enemy. It was immature when he looked back on it. That whole Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry was a little ridiculous when he looked back on it. The only reason he could think of ever disliking Marcus was because he was a bit of a prat at times. He knew at the time Marcus was all talk, which apparently no one else saw through. Although, he did punch one of his teammates once so maybe there was some action to his talk. But they never got passed arguments on the quidditch pitch. 

He hadn’t realised he was staring until he heard the bartender’s voice. “Someone caught your eye?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of it. “No,” he said and turned back to the bartender. “I uh, I know that guy.”

He looked over his shoulder and right at Marcus. “Oh, you know Marcus?” he asked curiously.

“We went to school together,” he said. “Is it common for you to know people by name?”

“Regulars only,” he shrugged. “Marcus comes by a lot.”

He raised his brow at him. “Really?” he asked. 

“Yeah, one of those guys who gets around.”

That was a surprise. He wouldn’t have pegged Marcus as a relationship person, or someone who slept around either. He didn’t seem like he liked anyone, even as a friend. He just remembered him as someone who was in a constant bad mood. 

“I haven’t seen him since we graduated,” he said. 

He snorted. “I’m guessing you didn’t know?”

He shook his head. “No clue.”

He shrugged. “This isn’t unusual, people seeing classmates or co-workers and whatnot.”

Oliver nodded a little and the bartender went back to work. He looked back at where Marcus was sat. He was still drawing, with a pencil surprisingly. But that was a little more practical than a quill, especially if he was in a muggle bar. A quill would draw attention, namely odd looks. When Oliver had discovered pens he’d wondered why wizards still used quills. 

He didn’t know he liked drawing, unless it was a passion gained after they’d graduated. He never paid much attention to him, he realised. It was always quidditch, quidditch, and quidditch. Mostly beating Slytherin in quidditch and shouting at Marcus for his wrong opinions about quidditch. It was weird to him he never went pro, he seemed to passionate about it. 

Maybe it was because he was from a prestigious family and prestigious pureblood heirs didn’t play quidditch as a career. Only as a hobby. 

He should go and say hi to him. But it might be strange, since he doubted Marcus had thought about him either. He probably didn’t even remember him.

Still, he was tempted to approach him. Maybe for a quick hello, or to reminisce. Which was weird, because it was Marcus Flint of all people. He was his sworn enemy for so many years that talking and having a civil conversation as adults felt foreign. 

Yet, with his beer in his hand, he walked towards him. His head was still down while he drew, his curly hair falling into his face. His facial hair was a little rugged and uneven. His nose was still crooked, broken after a bludger bat hit him in the face during their last quidditch game together.

Was he always that attractive? 

He ignored that and before he lost his nerve and turned to run away, he cleared his throat. The pencil stopped and he looked up at him, his brows drawn together in confusion before they widened in surprise. 

He gave him a casual smile. “Long-time no see, Flint,” he said. 

“Wood?” he asked, confusion in his tone. “The fuck you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same,” he said. “Mind if I sit?” he asked and gestured to the chair next to him.

Marcus glanced at it and shrug. “Do what you want.”

He pulled the chair out and sat across from him. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Had no clue you were – what? Gay, bi?”

“Gay,” he said flatly. “Could say the same until the Prophet wouldn’t shut up about it. Don’t you have a fiancé?” 

There was a knot in his stomach. “Broke up with him,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t take you as one to read the gossip columns.”

“Skeeter’s hard to avoid, they had all the quidditch gossip with the shit I actually cared about.” 

“Free posters of the hot players?”

The corners of his mouth flinched a little but his face stayed blank when he caught himself. “What did you even want, Oliver? We haven’t seen each other in years.” 

He blinked. “First name?”

“I think we’ve grown passed only referring to each other by our last names.”

“You’re twenty-five.” Marcus only shrugged. He pressed his lips together. “I just wanted to say hi I guess. I just broke up with my fiancé and all.”

“You trying to move on I guess?”

He nodded. “It was hard, and he was the only guy I’ve ever been with.”

“Really, huh?” he asked. “You’re going from that to trying to sleep with a complete stranger?”

He took a sip of his beer and shrugged. “Isn’t that what you do?”

“I don’t like realtionships,” Marcus said, looking a little taken aback at his comment. “Bartender clued you in, I guess?”

He nodded. “No big deal, I’m just surprised that grouchy teenager I knew at Hogwarts can convince that many men to sleep with him.”

He expected him to narrow his eyes but instead, he gave an amused smile. “I was a grouchy kid for sure,” he admitted. “Just like you were way too obsessed with quidditch.”

Oliver smiled. “Still love it, obviously since I went pro. Why didn’t you?”

“Miss me in the big leagues?” he teased. 

Banter, something that was the closest to a pleasant interaction they’d had when they were still at Hogwarts. In between all their fights and arguments, he, and Marcus seemingly, both found joy in goading the other. Marcus had loved to stir him up, and for whatever reason Oliver always took it even though he knew his intentions. He would always give him what he wanted. 

“Yeah, you were a pain in my ass that no one else has ever measured up to,” he teased. 

He snorted. “Good to know,” he said. “That’s the mark I wished to make.” 

“Yeah, it really is the only thing I remember about you.”

He nodded. “You were good enough though,” he said. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t make it.”

A compliment, not a passive aggressive insult but a real compliment from Marcus. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He’d also realised Marcus hadn’t answered his question but he probably wouldn’t either. 

He would’ve never admitted it all those years ago but Marcus was good at quidditch. He was a good rival to have and kept him motivated. He probably wouldn’t have gotten as good as he had if he didn’t help motivate him, even if that wasn’t his intentions. Marcus had wanted to win just as much as he did. Especially after how viciously Slytherin had won against them in his fourth year. 

“Thanks,” he said. “I’d spent years getting as good as I am now. I remember when I first joined the team in my second year I tried so hard to be amazing. Partially because I had a crush on the captain at the time.”

His crush on Charlie had been a big one. He’d try too big of tricks and borderline dangerous saves to try and impress him. At the time, he didn’t understand why he’d cared so much about what Charlie thought of him. He just knew he was hypnotised by him. He was an amazing quidditch player, an amazing flyer, and amazing captain. He’d always try to get his attention in the common room and try to sit next to him in the Great Hall. 

By the time he’d realised it was a crush, Charlie had graduated. He was in his sixth year at the time, during the time he had started to really question his sexuality. He’d never told Percy. He never saw a need to. It was weird, and crushing on your best friend’s brother felt too cliché. 

“One of the Weasley’s, right?” Marcus asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah, Charlie.”

He laughed. “I remember him. I work with his brother Bill,” he said.

He blinked. “You’re a Curse Breaker?” Marcus had never been the most academically inclined. That kind of career was a difficult one to have.

But Marcus laughed. “I wish,” he said. “No, he’s my boss and I count the gold he brings to Gringotts” He took a sip of the drink next to him. “Bill’s alright though, wife’s part veela, so it was pretty funny watching my co-worker getting distracted.”

Oliver laughed. The highlight of the show before the 1994 Quidditch World Cup was the men’s reactions to the veela. He just watched in amusement while he ate chocolate wands. He could’ve done without his dad getting distracted though. 

“Were you at the ’94 world cup?” he asked. “They were Bulgaria’s mascots.”

He nodded. “I remember. My brother almost threw himself onto the pitch. My sisters and I made fun of him for weeks.”

“This one guy near me tripped over the seats in front of me.” 

Marcus laughed this time. He had a really nice laugh, he noticed. He’d never heard him laugh, it was like he was immune to it. Maybe he’d misjudged him all those years ago simply for being a Slytherin. That rivalry really made no sense when he looked back. It was actually kind of nice to have a normal conversation with him, like they’d actually been friends. Not actively hated each other. 

“Am I the only one creeped out by them?” Marcus asked. 

He shrugged. “They’re a little creepy, yeah,” he nodded. 

Marcus took another sip of his drink. “Why’d you sit with me?” he asked. 

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You hated me in school, and you were looking for someone to sleep with. Just seemed a bit weird, that’s all.” 

He thought about what he’d said. He was here to find someone to sleep with but when he saw Marcus, he was all he could focus on. It was like he was this weird mystery he could finally figure out. Him being here made him realise he knew nothing about him. He’d spent years hating him, and it was like seeing him made him realise he might’ve not had a reason to.

“Well, unless you still hate me, and have no interest in sleeping with me, I’ll leave.” It was meant to be a joke, because this was Marcus Flint. His sworn enemy for years, a guy he’d hated. And Marcus had felt the exact same way. Sleeping together was a ridiculous, even laughable, idea. 

“Uh, are you offering?” he asked, surprise crossing his face. 

Wait, what? “Uh, was that a yes?”

“It was more asking if you were being serious,” he said. “Are you?” 

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “I mean, I wasn’t. Like you said, we hated each other. It’s not the best idea.”

He snorted. “I didn’t hate you, we were kids. Sure, I was a bit of a wanker, I know. But you took things so seriously it was funny to watch. Like, who gets so upset over having your practice time compromised.”

“Hey!” he argued. “That was a shitty thing to do! You could’ve waited to train your Seeker but you had to ask Snape to give you special permission to steal our practice time.” 

“Thank you for proving my point,” he smiled. It was that smartass smile, the same he’d always give him when he’d win an argument, always to do with quidditch. “But are you serious? About us sleeping together?”

He opened his mouth to say no, he wasn’t. Then he’d leave him alone and find someone else to sleep with. Someone who wasn’t Marcus Flint, a person he had a tension filled history with. 

But he wasn’t saying no. He was just staring at Marcus with his mouth hanging open. 

That was when he really looked at Marcus. 

His eyes were still as grey as he remembered, and the black hair complimented it. His jaw was sharp and defined. And his body was toned, his arms looked large under his sleeves and there was definitely a six pack under his clothes. He realised he really wanted to find out for himself.

He realised he was staring, especially when Marcus spoke. “Is… that a yes?” he asked. 

His eyes went back to meet his. “Yes,” he said. “You?”

His lips flickered into a small smile. No, a smirk. The same kind he’d give him all those years ago. “It’s a yes.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey we're at sexy times!
> 
> I'm a lesbian so let's hope this isn't terrible!

When Marcus had come out to Terence, his first response was it wasn’t too surprising because of how much he liked to stir up Oliver Wood. He kind of just scoffed at the idea at the time, because while he had found Oliver kind of attractive, he still only saw him as an annoying Gryffindor. He just found it funny to see how upset he got over unimportant things.

Maybe the fact they’re going back to his flat to sleep together slightly contradicted that. Although, admittedly he’d gotten pretty attractive over the past few years, probably thanks to playing quidditch. Him being a pain in his ass during school was the last thing on his mind, because he’d gotten pretty damn hot. 

When they’d left the bar, the bartender had given him a look. Probably because Marcus had made a comment about not being in the mood to sleep with anyone that night. It’d been a few days since the ordeal with his parents but it had left him in not the best mood. He might’ve used that as an opportunity to take his frustration out on someone through sex but that would involve putting on the charm which he wasn’t in the mood to put effort into. 

Oliver though? He’d approached him and was looking for someone to sleep with. Typically guys who were looking to sleep with someone right after a breakup were the easiest to shake off. He was a little surprised that he had only slept with one person but that wasn’t on his mind. 

What was on his mind was he was going to take Oliver back to his flat and finally release all that tension they’d had during their school years. Although Oliver seemed ready to deny it.

“What?” he scoffed. “There wasn’t any tension.”

“Do you not remember the captain handshakes we had to do?” he argued, smiling at the memory. They were always far more firm than they had to be. He’d never tried to break his hand but each shake left his own sore. 

“That’s was me being assertive,” he argued. 

He smirked at him. If they weren’t still in public, he might’ve tried flirting with him by patting his ass or biting his earlobe. He was smarter than doing it on the streets, especially if he wasn’t sure if Oliver would be okay with it. He always saved everything for the bedroom, but he was so tempted to get to it now. 

“How long until we’re at the Leaky Cauldron?” he asked. If they didn’t get there soon he will have to pull him into an alley to Disapparate from there. 

“Impatient, I see,” Oliver smirked at him. Yeah, there was his smartass attitude. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Fine, but the second I see it I’m pulling you in and Apparating to my flat immediately.” 

“Works for me,” he grinned at him a bit his lip. It was kind of cute actually, and clearly on purpose.

He snorted a little. “Are you trying to flirt with me?” he teased. “Because you’ve already got me for the night.”

He narrowed his eyes at him. “I haven’t done this in years. Forgive me for trying, I barely know how to do this.”

He smiled and leaned closer to his ear. “I’ll let you know what I like soon enough.” He took satisfaction in his full body shudder. He was so tempted to bite his ear lobe at that point. 

“Okay, fuck, I remember passing alley, we can Disapparate there,” he said quickly. Marcus smirked in satisfaction and let him take his hand as he dragged him towards said alley. 

He laughed. “Slow down, I’m the one taking us to my flat,” he said, almost tripping over himself. 

Oliver looked back at him, and Marcus realised how hungry his eyes were. He’d never seen how attractive he was. Nice brown eyes, light brown hair that fell into his eyes, a crooked nose that was sprinkled with freckles, and pink lips that looked more than ready to be kissed. 

Fuck, they had to get back to his flat. 

“Fuck the slowing down, I’m guessing?” Oliver smirked. 

He bit his lip and nodded, “Hurry the fuck up,” he said. Oliver smiled before pulling him towards an alley. But then he stopped in his tracks.

“Damnit,” he muttered. He looked over his shoulder and saw why. It wasn’t deserted like he had clearly thought. Some teenagers were smoking, meaning Disapparting there was impossible. Oliver let go of his hand and glanced at him. 

“Leaky Cauldron it is,” he muttered annoyed and continued to walk down the street. Marcus followed, ignoring the disappointment in his gut. Who knew he’d be this desperate to sleep with Oliver Wood of all people? 

“Well, hurry up,” Marcus goaded, eyes drifting to his ass. He really wanted a handful of that.

They really needed to get to his flat. 

He looked over his shoulder and smirked at him. “Are you staring at my ass?” he teased. 

He grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “Looks pretty nice under there.”

He licked his lip, his cheeks tinting red a little. “Save it for the bedroom, Flint.” Oliver seemed to still refuse to call him by his first name but he’d be making sure he was screaming it before they were done. 

“I intend to, Oliver,” he said, grinning at him. 

They finally got to the Leaky Cauldron, and they started right towards the corner used to Disapparate. Marcus was damn relieved and gripped Oliver’s arm to walk to it. He saw him grin in the corner of his eye and they Disapparated to his flat. 

They Apparated in his room and all that ran through his mind was finally. 

They stared at each other for a moment, before Oliver took his shirt in his hands and pulled him so they were finally kissing. 

Fuck fuck fuck. His lips were kissing him roughly, pulling him closer and closer to him. His hand went to his ass and squeezed it. Oliver moaned against his lips, and shoved his tongue into his mouth. 

Oliver’s body shuddered in pleasure, and he wrapped his arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His shirt was riding up, exposing the skin. He used that as an opportunity to touch his skin. His hand brushed against something that was definitely a six pack. 

Okay, they needed to go further before he exploded. 

He pulled away, both of them panting and staring at each other. His eyes were dark and his lips were swollen. He looked so sexy, and the image of him naked, sweaty, and crying his name ran through his mind. Something that would actually happen soon enough, 

“Clothes, off, now,” Marcus breathed, taking a fist full of the hem of Oliver’s shirt. Oliver grinned as he let him pull off his shirt. Once it was on the floor Marcus took a second to admire his body. His body was somewhere between lean and burly. He had a six pack, and his forearms were big. He was mostly hairless, probably to help with speed while flying. But there was a little hair. What caught his attention most was the happy trail. He could only think about where It lead and how much he wanted to strip him down to see it. 

Oliver bit his lip, a grin stretching his lips. “Like what you see?” he asked. 

In any other instance, he would’ve said he’d seen better and receive an annoyed look, the cute glare where he scrunched his nose. 

He was too high on hormones to tease him. “Sexy,” he breathed out. “So sexy.”

He tugged on his shirt. “You gonna take this off?” he asked. Marcus smirked and let him pulled it off of him. Marcus threw it off, not caring where it went. Oliver’s eyes scanned his body, an eager look in his eyes. Him looking at him like that made exactly what he wanted to do to him flash in his mind. He was getting hard at the thought of it. 

“Not bad,” he said, eyeing his six-pack. Then he kissed him roughly, biting his lip before running his tongue against it. Marcus moaned and gripped his hips tightly. Oliver pushed his hips forward, and Marcus felt a wave of satisfaction when he felt how hard he was. He was so desperate to tear his pants off of him. 

Oliver pushed him to sit on the bed and straddled his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him again. He could feel how hard he was against his stomach, and he felt it get even more hard as they kissed. Marcus moaned as Oliver rocked his ass against his cock through his jeans. Marcus unbuttoned Oliver’s jeans, biting his lip.

“Want me to touch you?” he mumbled against his lips. 

“Yes, fuck,” he breathed, and gasped when Marcus took hold of it. He pressed his thumb against the head of it, smiling at the slick pre-cum as he kissed him. Oliver pulled away, and threw his head back as he moaned. “Holy shit.” 

He bit his lip and smiled. “You gon’ take these pants off now?” he asked, his tone deep as he stroked him again. “They’re kind of in the way.”

Oliver licked his lip before standing up and kicked off his shoes and socks before taking off jeans and then his boxers. Marcus’s eyes dropped right down to his cock. It was big and fully hard, dripping from the tip. He was practically drooling at the sight of him. 

Oliver bent back down to kiss him, his hands undoing his jeans. He shifted to make it easier for him to pull it down his thighs and he pulled away. Marcus’s eyes drifted open and saw Olive looking down with his mouth gaped open a little, staring at his cock. 

“Impressive,” he muttered. 

He grinned. His cock was big and this was the typical reaction. The hunger in Oliver’s eyes made it clear he was no different than the other guys. 

“You like it, huh?” he teased, letting his voice go deep. 

“If I’d known when we were kids this would’ve happened sooner,” he licked is lip and bit down on his bottom lip, reaching down to stroke him. He gasped when he pressed his thumb to the head, his hips jerking forward slightly, softly moaning. Oliver grinned, not breaking his gaze as he stroked him. He pressed against the head again, and Marcus groaned, 

Then, to his surprise and delight, Oliver brought his thumb to his lips and licked off the stick pre-cum that was on his thumb. 

“Fuck,” he breathed and Oliver kissed him, his hand stroking him again. His hand was calloused but for some reason that felt so much better than any soft hand that had touched him. He rocked his hips forward when he Oliver pushed his tongue into his mouth. 

While his hand was on his cock, Marcus put his own hands on the small of Oliver’s back. While one hand held his hip, his other squeezed his ass. He pushed one finger between his ass cheeks, toying with his hole slightly. He moaned against his lips, pulling away to gasp. He grinned, and took the opportunity to pull him back to his lap. His cock pressed against both of their stomachs and Oliver gripped his shoulders, panting as he stared at him with dark eyes. Marcus pressed his lips to his neck, wrapping his arms tighter around his hips. Oliver threw his head back, moaning again. 

He still hadn’t called him by his name but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least call him by it once before the night was over. The goal for it was to have him panting and screaming it though. 

His lips were still clasped to his neck, not trying to give him a hickey but he was sure if he tried Oliver wouldn’t try to push him away. Oliver seemed to take that as a chance to push him onto his back. 

He grunted as his back hit the mattress, and Oliver crawled on top of him. His eyes were hungry and desperate. 

“Eager, Oliver,” he grinned at him. Before he could respond, he rolled on top of him, pinning his arms above his head. Oliver’s face was read, staring at him in pure lust. 

“Hold on,” Oliver said and sat up. Initially he thought he was just getting more onto the bed to avoid falling off. Then he thought that maybe Oliver had changed his mind, so he stayed back.

But what he actually seemed to be worrying about surprised him. “I’ve never bottomed.”

He blinked at him. “Oh, wait. You were in a relationship for what? However many years–”

“Six.”

“–and you’ve never let him top?” he raised a brow at him.

He shook his head. “More like he never let me bottom.”

Oh, one of those types. “I’ve bottomed before, so you can top,” he shrugged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m still in. But yeah, you bottoming is far from a problem. I just assumed you wanted to top.”

He shrugged. “I did yeah, but I like bottoming anyway.”

“Sorry to disappoint any teenage fantasy you had.”

He smiled a little. “You wish.”

He crawled to him, humming a little as he kissed him. “Well, can you at least come here properly?”

He moved to the head of his bed and laid down, laying his feet flat and his knees apart. “Condom and lube are in the bedside,” he pointed to it. 

Oliver glanced at it and did a gesture that made the draw open and the lube and box of condoms flew into his hands. 

Okay, that was kind of hot. “Show off,” he goaded as Oliver coated his fingers in lube. 

He smirked down at him, and pushed a finger inside of him, causing him to grunt. “Thanks,” he said, looking pleased with his reaction. 

He was clearly ready to take control. But even if he were the one bottoming, Marcus would be damned if he let Oliver had full control. Even though he did like bottoming, he was above anything, a power bottom when it came down to it. 

He pushed himself down on his finger. “That all you got?” he asked.

He scowled at him, then pulled his hand back, pushing in two more fingers. He moaned and grinned at him. He pushed down on his fingers again, trying to get him to brush against the sweet spot. 

Oliver seemed to have something else in mind. He seemed to have decided to finger fuck him rather than do the typical prep. Which he wasn’t at all against if he wasn’t clearly purposely missing the sweet spot. 

And he wanted his cock inside him right now. 

He rolled them so he was straddling him. Oliver seemed to take that as a prompt to pull his fingers out of him and held him by his hips. He got a condom and opened the packet. Maintaining eye contact, he rolled it onto him. 

“Fuck,” Oliver grunted, rolling his hips forward. He squirted lube onto his hand and coated him in it, delighting in his reaction as he moaned again. “Fuck.”

Yeah, he’d have him screaming his name in no time. 

“Sensitive,” he teased. 

His breath hitched in his throat. “I would say ‘fuck you’ but that’s kind if the plan here,” he said. 

He smirked down at him and shuffled so he could tease his hole with his cock. He moaned a little at the sensation as Oliver’s teeth sunk into his lip. 

“Can you just shove it inside you,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Okay, there was something hot about Oliver’s commanding tone. Typically, he would’ve drawn it out, teased for a little longer. But he could feel him throbbing as he was pressed against him. All he could think about was how much he needed him inside of him now. 

He pushed his cock inside, and grunted in pleasure. Oliver’s grip on his hips tightened, and met his rhythm as he rocked his hips. 

The position was perfect. Oliver face was red and his eyes were closed as he moaned. His hair was damp from sweat, and Marcus couldn’t help but run his fingers through it. His cock was hitting his stomach as he bounced on his cock. The image of coming all over his chest came to mind, hitting his chin as well. He stroked himself and moaned as he bounced.

He was so distracted by the sensations he was surprised when Oliver pulled him down to his lips, kissing him roughly. He grunted and pushed his tongue to Oliver’s mouth. It was hard to move on his cock in this position but he pushed back as best as he could. Oliver was still rolling his hips forward, helping keep a rhythm.

That seemed to be the perfect position to hit his sweet spot. When he hit it, his hips jerked forward.

He threw his head back from his lips. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. 

Oliver looked pleased. He pushed his hips forward to the same spot. “There?” he asked, looking absolutely delighted at how he was coming undone. 

He was too high on hormones to even think about how he usually wouldn’t let himself get undone during sex. “There,” he nodded, his voice small and sat back up. “Right there.” 

He was back to bouncing on his cock, gaining control back. He expected Oliver to just lay back and take it but he felt his hand wrap around his own cock. His breath hitched in his throat, stopping the thrusts for a moment. 

“You like that, huh?” he asked, and there was something about him slurring it, his voice deep and drenched in his Scottish accent that made a shiver run down his spine. 

“Yeah,” he breathed and gasped when he pressed his thumb to the head. “Fuck, Oliver.”

Something flashed in his eye at the mention of his name. He still hadn’t broken down and called him by his name though and he was still determined to get him to scream his name. 

He started to bounce faster, which made Oliver gasp before he groaned and jerked him off faster. Oliver’s cock was hitting his sweet spot each time, and he was ready to explode. The pressure was building around his cock and he was going to come hard and soon. The combination of Oliver jerking him off and his cock hitting his sweet spot brought him even closer. 

“Fuck,” Oliver groaned. “Fuck, Marcus.”

That did it, he came all over Oliver. The cum hit his chest, splashing on his chin a little while the rest cover Oliver’s hand. 

He stilled for a moment so he could catch his breath. He could feel Oliver throbbing inside of him, close to coming himself. 

“Marcus?” he breathed out, looking at him with dark eyes again. 

“Yeah?”

Oliver grinned at him and he rolled them over so he was on top, and he thrusted his hips into him. Marcus gasp in pleasure, Oliver’s name escaping his lips in a whine. 

“Marcus, fuck,” he moaned. “Marcus.” His hips buckled forward one more time before he came. 

Oliver collapsed on his chest, burying his face into his shoulder as he panted heavily. 

He rolled onto his side to get Oliver off of him. They stared at each other, as if they had just realised what they’d done. He been so used to one night stands but maybe this was too close of a connection. 

But he didn’t care. Because that was some of the best sex he’d had. 

“Want to chuck out the condom?” he asked, gesturing to his dick. He glanced down at it and pulled it off and used wandless magic to levitate it to the bin. When he yawned, Marcus released how tired he was. And before he could really think about it, sleep decided to overtake him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry this took so long. I wanted to keep it to once a week but I guess I broke that.

The first thing Oliver realised when he woke up was that he was in an unfamiliar bed. 

He bolted upright and looked around the room. He was in a bedroom, one that was overdue for being cleaned up. Clothes littered the floor. It took him a moment to realise some were his own.

He was naked. He looked down at his chest as if he needed to confirm it visually. He saw his bare chest and everything below his waist was covered by the sheet. He definitely had sex the night before. The weight next to him was enough of an indicator of that.

He glanced at the body next to him and for a moment he thought it was a dream, something that was in of itself, impossible. His past couldn’t have come back in such a way. 

But no, Marcus Flint was sound asleep next to him. 

He took a deep breath, the night before coming back to his mind. 

They had sex. They slept together, not only that but he fell asleep in his bed. He slept with his teenage rival, someone he was sure for so long he thought he despised. And last night they were screaming each other’s names.

His chest was still sticky with his cum, as if he needed another indicator that they really had had sex. 

He wasn’t sure how to react to it, it was just odd in a way. He hadn’t even thought about Marcus since he’d graduated, but he’d had the image of a brutish Slytherin for a number of years. Not someone he would’ve been attracted to. He hadn’t ever found him heinously unattractive – despite the troll comments that got thrown around in the Gryffindor common room – but their personalities had been too different. At least at face value, he hadn’t bothered to actually get to know him. Simply because he was a Gryffindor, and Marcus was a Slytherin. A friendship was forbidden enough. Even more so because they were captains of their house’s quidditch teams. And six years on when houses mattered less to him and probably Marcus too, they’d slept together.

He was mad at himself for falling asleep, he could’ve easily had a nightmare and gone right into an anxiety attack in Marcus’s bed. And he didn’t know how Marcus would react to him falling asleep rather than Apparating out at the first chance. That was probably what he’d expected him to do. 

Before he could get out of the bed and get his clothes together, Marcus stirred and yawned, his eyes opening. His eyes found him, and he squinted at him. He seemed as surprised as him to see what had happened last night really had happened. 

He smiled awkwardly at him. “Morning.”

Marcus’s eyebrows furrowed. He hadn’t noticed how thick and bushy his brows were until then. They actually suited him well. 

He was still staring at him. And then he laughed a little. “You too,” he said and smiled. His teeth were still crooked but that kind of suited him, it kind of added to his rugged appearance. Or maybe he had really weird taste. 

Not at all to his surprise, he had a few tattoos. One that caught his eye was the one on his collarbone. Three letters with a full stop between each, A.C.J. 

He must’ve been clearly staring at it, because Marcus said, “The tattoo stands for my siblings’ names.”

Oh, that made sense. “What are their names?” he asked. Might as well at least try to be a little pleasant. But Marcus didn’t seem to interested to share.

“Did you want breakfast?” he asked, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. He stopped his eyes from drifting to watch his chest flex. 

“No,” he shook his head. “My sister’s probably worried.”

“You can send an owl,” he said. “You should at least shower.”

He shook his head again. He didn’t want to over stay his welcome. He didn’t regret what they had done, but there was still that history that made this whole situation really weird. He really should just head back to Amelia’s, take a shower, and go back to working on finding his own flat. He still needed to get the rest of his things out of his old flat. But that would mean facing Shane which he wasn’t completely ready to do. He was terrified he’d convince him to go back to him, that he’d find a way to guilt him back into a relationship. If he even so much as tried, Oliver would either break down and go back to him or blurt he’d slept with someone now and they weren’t going to get back together. Maybe telling him that would be the message they truly were over for good. 

“Thanks, but uh, no,” he said, as he threw the sheet away and jumped out of the bed, looking for his clothes. Both of their clothes from the night were thrown around the room, clearly they had gotten carried away. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep, I’m sorry.”

He blinked at him. “Oh, don’t uh, don’t worry about that,” he said as Oliver collected his clothes. “No big deal.” 

He could feel him watching him. Not in a checking him out sort of way, more in a, this is kind of awkward sort of way. And god, this was kind of awkward. How were you meant to talk to someone you just had a one night stand with? Especially when he clearly wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He ignored the twinge of guilt in his gut. It was best to just leave now and go back to never talking. They probably wouldn’t have any run ins again anyway. 

When the tension got too weird, Marcus excused himself to go shower. It was almost a relief, rather than dressing in silence while Marcus sat awkwardly. 

He didn’t expect it to be as weird as it was. When he and Shane first had sex, they easily fell asleep while cuddling, and when they woke up they shared sweet kisses and laughed. It was simple, easy, not kind of weird and awkward. He kind of wondered how things would’ve been if they were still kids and had to see each other every day. It probably would’ve been a combination of weirdness and hostility. 

Once he was finally dressed, and when he found his wand he didn’t even bother to say bye to him before Dissapparating home.

…

Amelia jumped slightly when he Apparated into the kitchen. She gave him a curious look but didn’t ask about his night. It was obvious how he’d spent his night. 

He walked right to the shower, finally getting last night’s bodily fluids off of him. When he saw himself in the mirror he could see he still had a little bit of Marcus’s cum on his chin, which hopefully Amelia didn’t notice. Even if she had, she would’ve only acted as if she hadn’t noticed. 

Now that he was out of Marcus’s places, he started to wonder if he’d moved on too fast. Should’ve he waited to be in a new relationship before sleeping with someone? Was a one night stand even the best option? Maybe he should’ve just stayed in bed and let himself properly get over him. It felt almost like cheating after being had been together for so long.

But he reminded himself that it was good for him. He was his own person, he could fucking sleep with someone if he wanted to. He had no obligation to spend his time moping about Shane. Jacob and Amelia were right to tell him to move on, especially since he hadn’t dealt with breakups before. He knew it was okay to move on and that he wasn’t a bad person to, Shane wasn’t his boyfriend or fiancé anymore. 

He shouldn’t feel this weird when he’d broken up with him. He shouldn’t feel like he shouldn’t be allowed to go fuck whoever he wanted when they weren’t together anymore. Even if he had moved on too quickly, he was doing nothing wrong by sleeping with another person. Even if it was a person he’d hated for a number of years. Jacob and Amelia seemed to have thought it was the best idea and he was inclined to believe them. He still remembered when he was 14 and Amelia was 17, she cried over her boyfriend breaking up with her in her dorm and he was stuck outside of it unable to comfort her. 

He’d always seen Shane as his forever, that he didn’t need to worry about a breakup or heartbreak or moving on. But he had to figure out where to go from here, and he didn’t regret sleeping with Marcus, not a bit. Maybe he could try and find another guy through friends, he doubted Marcus was the type to have a second time. 

Not that he wanted to have a second time with Marcus, he thought at least. It was a lot of fun and what he’d needed, even if it was, well, his former sworn enemy. Maybe he was right about there being tension when they were kids. If there really was, and they ended up doing something back then, he doubted anything would’ve come of it. They whole rivalry that existed between their houses would’ve prevented an actual relationship they could’ve been open about, if that were to happen. And without access to each other’s dorms places to meet up would’ve been minimal. Especially without Peeves catching them and subsequently telling everyone about what he’d seen. And at that age, it would’ve been far more trouble than it was worth. 

But they were both at points in their lives where if they wanted, they could be in a relationship. Not that one would happen. They had sex and they were done, that simple. 

Although, it was pretty good sex, that he couldn’t deny. He wouldn’t have expected that from Marcus, even though the bartender had implied he was experienced. As much as people made fun of his teeth it hadn’t deterred his kissing at all. He was actually a really good kisser. 

Why was he thinking about the night so much? It was only a one-night stand, didn’t matter who it was. If he’d slept with a stranger it would’ve been easy to shake off. Sleeping with someone he hadn’t seen in six years should be easy too. It was just Marcus Flint. 

Just his biggest rival as a teenager. And that was a long time ago. It shouldn’t be this much on his mind. Maybe it just was because he was the only other person he’d had sex with. 

He stepped out of the shower and went to make some coffee. Amelia was making her own breakfast at the toaster as Jacob made eggs. 

“Hungry?” Jacob asked but there was an amused smile on his face. 

Oliver ignored it as he put sugar in a mug. “Nah,” he said. Before Jacob could get in another tease, he looked at Amelia. “Ames, are you able to help me get the rest of my stuff? I still have some things back at the flat.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Olls,” she said. “I have some ministry work I need to finish up.”

He held back a groan. That meant he had to get back his stuff when Shane would be there. He had his usual fitness he needed to keep on schedule, especially after taking the last few days off. He needed to get his fitness back on track properly. As well as his diet but he thought the coffee was well deserved. 

“Thanks anyway,” he muttered and took a sip of his coffee. “I can get them all back myself, don’t worry.”

She nodded. “Okay, but if you need any help just send me an owl.”

He nodded. It wasn’t a problem to bring everything back himself but he’d prefer to not have to face Shane alone. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe some real closure would be good for them, so he wouldn’t be overthinking it. If he wanted to be together blurting that he’d already slept with someone else might convince him to understand they were truly done. 

…

He didn’t bother changing into clean clothes when he went to pick up the rest of his things. He’d never cared what Shane thought of him after working out in the past and he wasn’t going to start. So he’d have to deal with him smelling like sweat while he took everything to Amelia’s. 

He Apparated into the lounge room holding a suitcase. He looked around the room and saw Shane in the kitchen. 

Shane looked at him, still in the robes he’d wear to work. He looked exhausted, his hair a messy rather than being sleeked down with a heavy hand of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. 

“Oliver–” he began but he shook his head to cut him off.

“I’m just getting my things,” he said stiffly. He walked towards the bedroom, but that didn’t stop Shane. He followed him right to the bedroom. 

“You can’t just barge in here,” he said. “You don’t live here anymore.”

He set his suitcase down at the dresser and opened the draw. “I lived here long enough,” he said as he threw his clothes into the suitcase. 

“You’re not going to fit much by not folding,” he said. He pressed his lips together. He expected the quip, because he was always so damn anal about this kind of shit. 

“It’s charmed to be bottomless, don’t worry,” he muttered.

“Well it’ll all wrinkle.” 

He took a deep breath, continuing to throw his clothes into the suitcase. He could feel him Shane staring at him, but he focussed on ignoring it. He wanted to speed up and just get out of there. This was just too awkward, maybe he was too harsh to break them up so easily. Why didn’t he draw it out or properly talk? Just blatantly telling him he wasn’t happy was too harsh. 

He knew it was bullshit. No matter how he did it he was going to hurt him. Breakups were going to hurt either way. He wished there was a way to do this that didn’t hurt or didn’t make things awkward. If it could be his way things would be easy and simple, they could be around each other without tension surrounded by tension and hurt. maybe one day they could but he wasn’t sure if he wanted that. Not after everything, not after he made an effort to make him feel like shit for loving Quidditch as much as he did. 

That reminded him why they’re broken up, because he made him feel awful for loving something that he hated. There were things he hated that Shane loved, yet he didn’t spend his time giving him grief for it.

Yeah, he had to focus on that so he didn’t coerce him into getting back together. He didn’t need him, and he wouldn’t let him manipulate him into going back with him. He was always good at that. There were times the thought of breaking it off sooner had come to him but a flush of guilt would always run through him. 

“Oliver,” he spoke and he froze. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What?” he asked, his voice getting caught in his throat.

“Have you had any nightmares?”

Sweat prickled his forehead. He hadn’t, thankfully. He still wasn’t sure how’d he get out of one on his own without having an anxiety attack. That was his biggest fear, being alone and not able to take care of himself when he sleeps. 

“I haven’t,” he muttered, closing the dresser’s draw. That was all that was left, he had nothing left in the flat. He closed his suitcase, and picked it up. He got his wand out and was ready to Disapparate but Shane spoke again.

“So you haven’t changed your mind?”

He looked at him. “No, I haven’t.”

“But maybe we could talk things out or–”

“I slept with someone last night.” He cut him off before he could convince him to have second thoughts. He was going to go back to Amelia’s and never see Shane again. He was just going to leave him in the past and move on with his life and career. 

He frowned. “Oh.” There was hurt in his tone. He shouldn’t feel guilty over him being hurt because they’re not a couple anymore. He hadn’t cheated on him, even though that was how he was making it sound. 

He sighed, setting his wand to his side. “Don’t,” he said.

He frowned. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me feel guilty for moving on. I broke up with you, remember?”

He shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you did it,” he said. “I thought we were happy. At least until we had that fight.”

That fight still hurt. But if Shane couldn’t support him in his one passion then there was no use to continue to try and make it work. He was always going to make him angry about it, he wasn’t going to cheer him on in the crowd, he wasn’t going to ask him about practice. If he ever became captain he wasn’t going to boast about it to his workmates. He was going to instead sit around waiting for him to throw away his passion in exchange for a boring ministry job. 

Even when he retired that wasn’t what he wanted. A coach or even replacing Madam Hooch would be more desirable. He wanted quidditch to reamin his life, it had been his life since he was seven years old when he would play in the children’s league, playing on a broom that barely hovered off the ground while he took his Keeper position. 

Shane didn’t understand that. Not only did he not understand it but he refused to. And that meant that they could never have a future. Or at least not a happy one. 

“I haven’t been happy for a while, Shane,” he said. “I told you that.”

He nodded. “Just get out, Oliver.”

He took a deep breath, and before he could change his mind he Disapparated out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Marcus Apparated into Terence and Adrian’s flat, and got a glare from both of them as expected. 

Nonetheless, Terence offered coffee and toast, which he accepted with a grunt as he sat next to Adrian. Adrian was buttering a scone and pushed it away, probably to stop him from nicking one. 

Marcus wasn’t going to do that. He was too busy thinking about what had happened a couple of nights ago. 

Somehow, he’d slept with Gryffindor’s former little golden boy, Oliver Wood. Now that his head was clear, he’d realised what a bad idea that was. He hadn’t slept with a wizard before for one thing. The first guy he had sex with was a muggle. The most he’d previously done with a wizard was when he was fourteen and a boy at one of his parent’s Christmas parties had kissed him. Cue the start of his sexuality crisis. 

It would’ve been one thing if he’d slept with a wizard he’d never met before, Oliver Wood was its own thing. It was… well, it was Oliver Wood. He did consider their old rivalry a little ridiculous when he looked back on it. Now he was a little envious he’d made it to the big leagues while he was left with a desk job. 

But having history made the sex different. Having sex with a complete stranger was exhilarating, it was exciting, and he could easily remove any and all emotions. 

Having sex with Oliver Wood made that difficult. In the back of his mind was all the tension that had been between them. The bickering, the stirring up, the fights over the pitch, the sneers, the glares, the snarls, the goading, all of it. They had been in the back of his mind the whole time, and the fact they were really having sex was almost surreal. Like it hadn’t had really happened. If he hadn’t been in his bed that next morning, he would’ve convinced himself it had been a really good wet dream. 

But no, he saw his former rival all grown up with messy hair and gorgeous brown eyes staring at him. He wasn’t sure why he had wanted him to stay so bad. He’d never brought guys to his place – only reason it was his place was because Oliver was staying with his sister – and he never stayed back. He’d fallen asleep on accident a few times but he was usually able to leave soon enough. He wasn’t even mad about Oliver falling asleep, he wanted him to eat or at least shower. There was a weird desire for that in his stomach, maybe because they actually knew each other. 

But Oliver clearly wanted to leave. Maybe he regretted it, maybe he’d realised it was a bad idea to do it right after a breakup. If Gryffindor’s weren’t as loyal as they were then he might have suspected they hadn’t actually broken up. 

Maybe Oliver had realised he’d slept with not only his rival, but who was no doubt called a troll in Gryffindor’s common room. The insecurity was behind him, mostly because he knew guys found him attractive, obviously since they slept with him. But with the way Oliver had looked at him, that convinced him he found him attractive enough. 

Well, having sex with him was probably proof enough. Even if it was his method to shake off his ex. Oliver would probably just want to forget the ordeal by now, he was probably still upset from breaking up with someone he was with for god knew how long. It was enough to want to marry him after all. 

By now, he just expected he was full of regret. He wasn’t, the only kind of one night stands he came close to regretting were guys who were just plain bad. But he had no emotions attached to the night, so he could go on with his life just fine. 

Still, he slept with someone he knew. Maybe that was the only reason he kept thinking about it. He’d like to think it was because it was such good sex it was memorable but maybe it was just because of their history. Their history was weighing down on him a lot. 

Terence set down a plate of toast and his coffee in front of him. “What you thinking about?” he asked, sitting next to Adrian. 

He blinked. Did he tune out completely? Adrian and Terence had been talking, but he hadn’t been listening. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged taking a sip of the coffee. If he’d told them he’d slept with Oliver, he wouldn’t get the most mature response. They’d just enjoy taking the piss out on him. 

Adrian snorted. “Okay, whatever,” he said, tearing off a piece of his scone. “How was dinner with your parents?” he asked. 

“Greengrass’s know I’m gay now,” he said with a smirk. His parents still hadn’t exactly forgiven him for that and it still felt like a stab in the stomach, but humour was a good coping mechanism, 

Terence seemed a little surprised and coughed on the toast he was eating. “What?”

Adrian laughed. “Seriously? I can’t believe you actually told them.”

He nodded. “You should’ve seen how relieved the girl was though,” he said. “Probably been pushed to too many guys she had absolute no interest in.” 

Terence frowned at him. “Were your parents angry or anything?” he asked, concern coating his voice. 

He took another sip of coffee, hopefully hiding the hurt from the memory. “They’ll be fine,” he said when he set the mug down. 

“Marcus–” Terence tried to say and Marcus knew he was just trying to be a good friend, but he didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t.

“Don’t worry, Higgs,” he said a little harsher than he intended. 

Terence and Adrian looked at each other, in that annoying couple way where they somehow communicated without actually talking. It grated his nerves since Amy and John did it all the time. 

“Fine,” Terence said and took a bite of his toast. “So what were you zoning out about?”

He took a bite of his toast and took it as a second to stall. He’d rather be teased about that than have them focus on his parents’ disapproval. “I slept with Oliver Wood the other night.”

Adrian coughed as he choked on his scone and Terence stopped mid sip, his eyes widening. 

“Oliver Wood?” Adrian asked mid cough. “As in, that Gryffindor Keeper you always had spats with?”

He shrugged. “That would be him.”

“Jesus fuck, about goddamn time,” Terence said. 

He clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Don’t.” Terence was only a year younger than him, so they spent a lot of time together in his repeated year. Terence had witnessed plenty of their arguments. He’d told him he was gay during that final year and he’d enjoyed making comments any and every time he would goad or stir up Oliver. He was probably waiting for them to get to sleeping together sooner – or snogging at least because they were teenagers after all. 

“What?” he said. “You’re the one who slept with him.”

Adrian wiped off the crumbs on his lips. “I’m with Terry,” he said. “You two took way too long to get it of your systems.”

“Excuse me for not knowing he was gay,” he snapped. 

Terence rolled his eyes. “I thought he had a fiancé though?” he said, frowning. 

“Broke up with him,” he said.

Adrian nodded. “Yeah, gossip columns said there’s rumours about it.”

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes and saying he wasn’t surprised he read gossip columns. He wasn’t that mean. 

“So wait, you slept together right after he and his fiancé broke up?” Terence frowned. 

He shrugged. “I didn’t exactly plan to sleep with him, it just happened.”

“What did happen then?” Adrian asked. “You haven’t seen him since you graduated, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, didn’t even think of him,” he said. “He was at the muggle bar I always go to. He came to me, one thing lead to another, and yeah,” he shrugged, throwing back what was left of his coffee. “It’s no big deal, it was just sex.”

“With Oliver Wood.”

He nodded, yeah it was sex with Oliver Wood. But it meant nothing. It meant nothing to him and it probably meant nothing to Oliver. They were both just going to move on with their lives. Oliver will probably be in a new relationship soon enough and he’d go back to only sleeping with muggles. 

“Like I said, it was just Wood,” he said. “I’ll probably never see him again or think of him. Just like before.”

Terence and Adrian did that annoying glance but both nodded. They finally understood it was just Oliver Wood. An annoying Gryffindor that meant nothing to them. Or to him. He meant nothing at all to him. He was just a hot guy who he had damn good sex with. 

…

The gold was minimal again. There wasn’t at all much to count at all so Marcus took his time. Bill seemed to be a little exasperated by it but Xander coaxed him out of it. There was probably less gold about or something like that. 

With there being less gold, Xander and Marcus did get asked to do some errands but it was mostly working behind a desk. 

Mostly he kept his head down, counting what gold there was. Xander seemed to go at his normal quick pace, probably wanting to get it done as soon as possible so he could laze about.

Which was exactly what he did when he was finished. He leaned back in his chair and started to people watch instead. Marcus grumbled, continuing to count the gold himself, almost half done with his own pile. It was a little difficult when his mind was elsewhere. 

He wasn’t sure why he was still thinking about sleeping with Oliver. It was to the point that when he did go out to the bar to find someone to sleep with he couldn’t find anyone who appealed to him. He kept comparing them to Oliver. Whether it be, this guy’s eyes weren’t as nice as Oliver’s, this guy’s hair wasn’t all tousled like Oliver’s, this guy’s smile wasn’t as eye-catching as Oliver’s. His mind was all Oliver, Oliver, Oliver

That was a problem. This hadn’t ever happened to him. This was why he didn’t sleep with people he knew. Why did he let himself get carried away and sleep with him? He knew it would’ve been a terrible idea. What the hell was he meant to do?

Bill came over to their counter and looked at Xander. “Xander, can you do half of what Marcus has left?”

“Sure.”

Marcus felt a flush of relief as he took half of the gold he still had. Bill went behind the counter to do paperwork he still had. Marcus didn’t understand how he could do all of that, it must’ve been mind-numbing. 

They all worked in silence for a while, which helped Marcus work faster. His pile was almost done and he was ready for a break. 

Xander was already done, and had gone back to people watching. It wasn’t a problem at all, until he said something that ruined any sense of concentration he had.

“Hey, isn’t that the Puddlemere Keeper?” 

His head shot up and he looked in the general area that Xander was looking. Yep, talking to a goblin was Oliver.

Fuck his entire life. 

He wanted to pull back and go back to work. He was between wanting to sink into his chair and hope he wouldn’t see him. But he kept his eyes on him, watching as he was escorted somewhere else by a goblin. Probably to a vault or something. 

“Uh, Marcus?” Xander asked. He blinked back into reality and looked back at his file of pile of gold. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I know him, that’s all.” 

“‘Know him’?” Bill asked and his tone was a little suggestive. As if he knew what happened between them. But he doubted so.

“Hogwarts,” he muttered. He bit his lip and went back to working. Or tried to.

“I remember him around the common room,” Bill said. “He was on the Gryffindor quidditch team, that I remember. Got knocked out in his first game.” Marcus snorted a little. He remembered that all too well and made fun of him for it for years. “My brother Charlie knew him better since he was captain, kid would always try to sit next to him is what I remember most.”

Xander smiled. “Aw, someone had a little crush, didn’t he?” 

Marcus smiled a little. Oliver seemed to have thought fondly of his crush. It was like how he had his own on an older Slytherin student. He never tried to get his attention, mostly because he was always told to repress emotions and there was no way people would even be able to guess his feelings. 

Bill smiled. “Yeah, I think it was, and the team. Charlie’s a good guy so he wasn’t ever a wanker to him.”

Xander looked back at Marcus. “Doesn’t explain why you got distracted, Marcus.”

He scowled a little. “Nothing,” he said. “Like I said, we knew each other. I was the Slytherin captain, so we had a few run ins.”

Xander smirked. “So you haven’t seen him since you graduated or…”

He pressed his lips together. “Don’t you have work to do?” 

Xander was ready to say something else but Bill gave him a look that stopped him. Marcus soon finished off counting his own gold, and sighed in relief. He sat back, glancing around the room. 

The universe seemed to still hate him because when he looked around he saw Oliver. The image of their night together, especially the moment after he came and Oliver taking that opportunity to change their position, flashed through his mind. He flushed a little at the thought. This was unlike him, and he wanted it to go away. 

He must’ve felt him watching him because he glanced in his direction and looked right into his eye. His step slowed down a little, watching him for a moment. Even from across the room, he could see the smallest smile on his lips before continuing to walk down to the exit. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw Xander looking pretty amused while Bill had a curious look on his face. 

“Why don’t you head out early,” he said.

He looked at him. “What?” he asked, confused. 

He smiled. “Head out early. Nothing else to do, and I’m sure Xander can take care of whatever errands.”

Xander didn’t protest. He just shrugged and agreed he could. 

They definitely saw that exchange, even though it was across the room. He wasn’t the type to be embarrassed but maybe they were getting to the conclusion there was… something between them. Or something happened. Whatever they were thinking that look made it clear it was not platonic.

So he got his things and left. He walked out of the exit quickly enough, unintentionally of course, to see Oliver. But he was sat in the lobby with a magazine, as if he was waiting for someone.

“Stalking me, I’m assuming?” 

That made Oliver flinch and stand up. “Hi,” he said. His face was red but the kind that looked as if a person had been recently working out. He also smelt like he’d recently showered.

“Hi,” he said. “Came from practice, I guess?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I uh, I was actually here to get my money in my own vault. I was sharing with my ex, but you know…” he trailed off so he quickly nodded. 

“So, you forgot I worked here?” he asked.

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

“So, were you waiting for something… or someone?”

His eyes shifted around the room. It was mostly empty but it was easy enough to eavesdrop. 

“Want to talk somewhere else?” he asked and he nodded. They stepped out on the street and it was crowded enough to have an easy conversation, but also enough for it to be hard to be eavesdropped on. 

They fell into the same pace, Marcus watching the ground and Oliver’s shoulders stiff. 

“So… yeah, why were you waiting?” he asked, looking at him. The only reason there could really be was because he wanted to see him. He could’ve just brushed it off if he hadn’t been thinking about what happened nonstop since it happened. 

“I don’t know. I guess I wanted to say hi to you or something.”

“Well, you’ve said hi,” he said. 

“And you’ve followed me,” he said, and his tone said it almost like it was a challenge. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” he asked. 

“Just, I don’t know.”

And he wasn’t sure either. What ever happened to the days he was just a pest and someone he would only call by his last name. Not someone who made him feel like this.

“Well, does it have to do with the, uh, other night?”

Oliver turned completely red. That seemed to make him panic, as if he were going to say something bad about the night. 

“I, uh, yeah,” he nodded.

He might’ve asked what about it but they were stretching this out long enough.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he blurted. 

Oliver blinked at him. He had a moment of panic that he’d say he’d regretted it. That’s what he’d expected even without him saying it aloud. 

But instead, in a small voice he said, “Honestly, I can’t either.”

He glanced at him to see him looking at the ground. “Really, huh?”

He nodded. “Didn’t think that’ll ever happen.”

“Me either,” he admitted. “But, don’t regret it?”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

A thought crossed his mind and he stopped walking, and Oliver noticed, stopping and looking over his shoulder at him. “What?”

It was then he’d realised he wanted to do it again. Which was unexpected because he’d never slept with the same man twice. His entire sex life was a string of one night stands. From a clumsy nineteen-year-old who’s first time was with a twenty-year-old with only a little more experience, to now, twenty-five with too many men to count at this point. And every time he was able to forget about the guy. 

But Oliver Wood wasn’t someone who could be forgotten.

“Do you want to do it again?”

Oliver stared at him, confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. When did he get bad at this? “Do you want to do it again? Have sex. And maybe, do it another time.”

He frowned. “You mean just sleep together?”

He nodded. “Yeah, only if you want obviously.” 

Oliver was silent for a moment, looking like he was genuinely thinking about it. “You need to get I was in a relationship for a really long time. I don’t know how to do this.”

He nodded. “And you need to get I’ve never been in a relationship,” he said. “So don’t go catching feelings or anything bollocks like that.”

“Got it,” he said. “I think right now I need something casual.”

Okay, he actually agreed to it. And he was going to sleep with a person more than once. “Free right now?” he asked.

He gave him that smile. The cute one that made his bright light up. “I am. I’m still at my sister’s for the next few days though.”

“My place it is.”

…

They Apparated into his room and Oliver looked at him with dark eyes. He bit his lip and smiled, his hands going to his trousers. 

“I just want to suck you off right now,” he said. 

He grinned. “That all?”

“For today,” he said. “Little wiped out from practice.”

“Well, I have nothing against a blow job,” he said. 

He grinned and pulled him by his robes, kissing him. 

It started slow but it soon heated up. Oliver palmed him through his trousers and he moaned, already getting hard. He let him tug his trousers down, and he took hold of him, starting to stroke him. He moaned against his lips, pushing into his hand. He was already pretty hard, and he was ready to push him to the floor but Oliver bet him to it. He pushed him to sit on the bed, kissed him a few more times, and grinned at him when he pulled away. He went onto his knees and pulled his trousers and boxers down.

“God,” he said. “I forgot how big you were.”

He snorted. “Thanks,” he said.

He smiled before stroking his cock. He licked the sensitive head, and he moaned a little as he teased it. He licked from the base to the tip slowly, and took the head into his mouth. He gasped as he swallowed him down, running his thumb over a vein. He gasped at that, and moaned. He pushed his hips forward a little but let Oliver have most of the control. His stomach felt so warm, and Oliver deep throating him while on his knees was so fucking hot. 

He ran his fingers through Oliver’s hair, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan. “Fuck,” he moaned as he swallowed around him. “Fuck, Oliver,” he groaned. 

Oliver was stroking what wasn’t in his mouth, gently palming his balls too. He was so close to coming right in his throat. 

Oliver seemed to notice that, as he started to bob his head, his cock hitting the back of his throat. His hand held the base as he sped up and after he swallowed around him a few more times, he shot in the back of his throat. 

He swallowed the cum down, and when he was done, pulled off of him and wiped his mouth. 

“Not bad,” he said when he pulled his trousers up.

“You’re welcome,” he said a little smugly and stood up. “So, on doing this again?”

He smiled. “Just send an owl when you’re horny, that would work fine.”

He nodded. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”


	9. Chapter 9

The new flat was smaller than the one he had shared with Shane but it was enough for one person. 

Jen, Luce, Alicia, and Katie had come by to help him unpack and get settled in. When he had run into Katie and Alicia he’d realised how much he wanted to see them more. And meeting up with Marcus made him realise how much he missed people he was friends with at Hogwarts. He’d always liked Alicia and Katie’s company and he’d found out they lived nearby to him. They seemed to get along with Luce and Jen well. Jen and Luce was lounged on the coached, Jen resting her feet in Luce’s lap. Alicia and Katie were settled in the kitchenette, organising things in ways he’d never be able to do himself. 

“Why are you separating forks, spoons, and knives?” he asked, looking over Katie’s shoulder.

“More organised,” she said. 

“But, like, what’s the point?”

She gave him a look that clearly said to leave her alone and he stepped back. “Fine, organise as much as you like.” He stepped around the bench and sat on the arm of the armchair next to the couch. “Thanks for helping out though.” 

“Yeah, we get that you’re incapable of doing it on your own,” Alicia said from Katie’s side. 

Jen gave him a smile. “Shane did most of that work, I’m guessing.”

He laughed. “Yeah, he was a bit of a control freak.” 

He meant to keep it light-hearted but his voice caught in his throat. If the girls noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

Maybe ‘control freak’ was a little harsh. Shane just liked things to be a certain way, and would get angry at him if he had any sort of agency. So he just let him do what he liked and he never got in the way. That was what made their relationship work. 

The one thing he never took away from him was quidditch. And that made him furious. He was starting to realise just how frustrated him playing quidditch had made Shane. 

Maybe ‘control freak’ wasn’t too strong of a way to put it. 

“You doing okay?” Jen asked instead. “About the whole breakup?”

He shrugged. Jen would care, of course. She’d been his friend ever since they both made the reserves. She’d seen the highs and lows with Shane. She’d been there during the worst times with him, she’d seen how he was after being treated less than ideal by him. She was always ready to comfort him. 

They’d always just in general gravitated towards each other. Him cheering her own during training, her slugging him in the shoulder after practice. Before the team knew they were both gay they’d been sure they were sleeping together by how friendly they were. They mostly kept it up for a laugh until Jen kissed Luce at the pub they went to after practice. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. It was mostly true. The breakup still stung but he’d been keeping his focus on Marcus. They’d slept with each other a few other times since deciding to make it a regular thing. They weren’t exclusive, that was another agreement. If they wanted to sleep with other guys, that was an option. It wasn’t a relationship. They were just two people sleeping together. 

It was a weird shift after being in a relationship for so long. Even if it was one that didn’t really make him necessarily happy. He wasn’t expecting to be fulfilled by this relationship with Marcus. But it was what he needed after such that long term relationship. Just to have some fun. Let himself have casual sex. Not just with Marcus but with other guys. But mostly Marcus. 

That was an odd thing to think, him and Marcus having this sort of relationship. It had been pretty good so far. It was only casual so he was taking a moment to get used to the concept of not cuddling with someone after having sex. Marcus’s never necessarily warded if off and he wasn’t hightailing out of there. They were civil towards each other, but it was just sex. Cuddling wasn’t part of that. And Marcus was clearly averse to romantic relationships. He hadn’t attempted to cuddle with him for that reason but also because it felt like he was toeing the line. They hadn’t talked about whether or not they were comfortable with that kind of stuff. Which was odd, because it was sex. 

But he wouldn’t be surprised if Marcus was the type to disconnect emotion from sex. He’d said himself he didn’t like relationships. Oliver wasn’t planning on asking why. Maybe he’d had his heart broken and swore them off. He found it hard to believe Marcus really hadn’t slept with someone more than once. It didn’t seem possible to him. But maybe that was the monogamous in him talking. He didn’t understand Marcus and the purpose of their arrangement wasn’t exactly for heart to hearts. 

He was wondering why Marcus had decided to even ask him to do this. Why he was the person he’d sleep with again. Maybe he just wanted an easy access to someone to sleep with and he seemed like an easy choice. 

A crack echoed through the room and Amelia appeared, smiling. “Hey Olls,” she said. “Getting settled in?”

He nodded from the armchair. “Yeah, girls have been helping.”

“Yep, the best way to move in is with an army of lesbians,” Jen said, smiling at her. 

“And I’m guessing they’d done most of the work?” she asked, raising her brow at him. 

“Hey, if we’re conforming to stereotypes, I’m too gay and useless to build anything,” he grinned with a shrug. Jen rolled her eyes and tossed a cushion at him.

“There’s also, magic, Oliver,” she said. “Which is how we do anything.”

“And I’m terrible at building spells.”

“As terrible as you are with cleaning spells?” Amelia asked, walking to his side. “How’s settling in going?” 

“The day and a half has been good,” he shrugged. “I haven’t lived alone in like, four years. It’ll take some getting used to. Company would be nice.”

She smiled. “Speaking of company, whatever happened to that guy you spent the night with?” 

That immediately got the girls’ attention. “Guy?” Luce asked. 

“You didn’t tell us you were dating someone,” Katie said, grinning. 

He rolled his eyes. He knew they meant well but he didn’t really want to tell them about hooking up with Marcus. Jen and Luce didn’t know him but Katie and Alicia would probably be baffled by it. They remembered how hostile their relationship was, they’d be shocked. No matter how many years they were out of Hogwarts, they will probably pay attention to the Slytherin thing. Or the Marcus thing. He’d spent enough time complaining about him, especially in his last year and Marcus was repeating his own. He’d rambled his complaints to them enough. 

“I’m not,” he said. But his voice went a little high. 

“Oliver,” Amelia crossed her arms. 

He sighed. “Okay, I am sort of seeing someone. But we’re not dating, it’s casual,” he shrugged.

Alicia raised a brow. “‘Casual’?” she asked. “Since when did you do casual?”

“Hey! I was in one relationship for six years, give me a break. I’m not even sure I know what I like,” he said. 

He meant that mostly in regards to dating, especially what his type was. He wasn’t sure if Marcus was his type but he was attracted to him, which was all that really mattered here. He hadn’t really made much of an effort to try dating other guys yet. He had no idea how to flirt, and he was always too exhausted after practice to try and go to a bar. Marcus had been a good option though so he wouldn’t have only his hand to help him out when he was pent up. It was a nice relief and maybe he needed to go through the phase of sex with no emotions. 

“Well, tell us about him then,” Jen said. “Where’d you meet? Muggle or wizard? Do you want to date him?”

He held back a groaned as he rolled his eyes. “I met him at a gay bar, he’s a wizard, and no I don’t want to date him.”

“Wait, you met a wizard at that gay bar?” Amelia asked. Her surprise was understandable, most wizards stayed away from muggle establishments, each having their own reasons. Oliver was surprised he even found Marcus considering his family’s notorious anti-muggle reputation. Mostly at the result of his ancestor, Former Prime Minister Josephina Flint.

“Wait, muggles have gay bars?” Jen grinned, looking absolutely elated by the piece of information. She looked at Luce. “We have to go to one.”

“Frankly, I’m much more interested in who this said guy is,” Katie said.

“Yeah, do we know him?” Alicia asked.

“No!” he said, far too quickly. Katie and Alicia grinned.

“We know him, don’t we?” Katie asked. 

He shook his head. “I just said no,” he said. 

Jen grinned. “Now I want to know too, if it’s such a secret.”

Luce laughed. “C’mon, how bad can it be? Unless the guy is closeted.”

He wasn’t. Marcus had mentioned being open about it at work, that was the opposite of closeted. Now that they wanted to know, they would be persistent. Katie and Alicia had always been gossips and Jen loved to know about his personal life. If they were being fair, he did meddle a little in getting Katie and Alicia together – with a little help of Angelina – and he wanted to know everything about Luce when she and Jen started dating. If anything, they were doing the same thing in return. Just like when he and Shane started to date. He’d always been open about it. He’d come out in his seventh year to his team. They reaction was positive, Fred and George commenting they had guessed over how disinterested he was in girls who would flirt with him. Even more so since he was completely oblivious to the flirting and had denied it ever happening. The twins had been pretty insistent it was the case though. Maybe he’d been too distracted with quidditch to notice. Or because his brain just didn’t register girls flirting with him. 

“You don’t even know him,” he said instead.

“I’m sure one of us have at least heard of him,” Katie said. 

Yeah, they weren’t giving up. He took a deep breath and looked at Katie and Alicia. “You girls remember Flint? Slytherin’s quidditch captain in my time?”

Their eyes both widened. “Wait, the guy you always had arguments with?” Katie asked. He nodded. “Jesus, finally.” 

“God, I thought you two would never hook up,” Alicia said. “I swear you two had too much tension.”

He was going to argue but his mind went back to Marcus’s comment of the exact same thing their first night together. The handshakes had always been tighter than necessary. That was just how it was, it was them both being assertive. Not tension. Tensions meant to go both ways, and he didn’t think there was tension even though Marcus did. And Alicia. And by the look of it Katie too. 

Okay, maybe it was weird tension. He was able to get him pissed off so easily. Maybe too easily. But he’d always just seen it as their competitive nature. Even though he had gotten along with Cedric and Roger fine enough, if anything he’d had friendly competition with them. But, of course, there was no pre judgment against them like there was with Marcus being a Slytherin. Other students had drilled they were all dirty, and Marcus was probably fed whatever Slytherins thought of Gryffindors. They were meant to hate each other and maybe they had taken it a little too far. He could’ve been friends with him, maybe something else, if there wasn’t that barrier. They were both passionate about quidditch after all. That’s why they knew each other in the first place. If it weren’t for quidditch he’d just be some guy in school, especially since he was a year ahead of him. He would’ve been an anonymous Slytherin without it. One he would’ve paid no mind to. 

But that wasn’t what it was. That past and the baggage just won’t go away. He wouldn’t have even paid attention to Marcus in the bar if he hadn’t known him. If he wasn’t a guy who complained about and thought was a prat, he would’ve just been some guy in a bar he might’ve not even recognised. 

Even just sleeping with Marcus Flint held a ridiculous amount of baggage. 

“Wait, who’s this Flint guy?” Jen asked, raising a brow. 

“We were just super competitive about quidditch in school. We just ran into each other and, yeah,” he shrugged. 

“Wait,” Amelia raised a brow. “Is this the Flint you would always complain about during breaks? The, ‘dirty, cheating Slytherin’?” 

He clenched his jaw. “Yeah, him,” he nodded. He probably tired Amelia by how much he’d complained about him. When he’d talk about quidditch to her, he’d always bring up Marcus and how much of a cheater he was. Marcus only brushed it off and saying he was a kid who didn’t know better. Looking back, it probably was and maybe he did overreact at times. 

“So what? You really just had a crush on him?” she smiled at him.

“I didn’t have a crush on him!” he defended. “And I told you, we’re not ever dating.”

Jen snorted. “Still, sleeping with a guy you used to hate? Damn, Oliver,” she laughed. Amelia scrunched her nose at that. 

“Please don’t talk about my brother’s sex life in front of me.”

“I didn’t even know Flint was gay,” Alicia cut in. “But there was clearly something there. Either you were going to bash each other or snog.”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know he was gay either. And you didn’t know I was gay for the record.”

“Nah, Olls, we all knew,” she said and Katie nodded. 

“Yeah, Olls,” Amelia nodded. “I knew too.” 

“You had posters of male quidditch players on your dorms wall,” Katie said. 

“And at home,” Amelia added. 

“And you’d always ask for poster my magazines,” Alicia added as well. 

Jen and Luce laughed. “To be fair, I did the same with girls,” Jen said. 

He took a deep breath to stop himself from groaning. “Okay, I get it,” he said. “Point is, we’re not dating, it’s casual. That’s it.”

“Still, it’s with Flint,” Alicia said. “You’d always complain what a cheat he was.”

“Can we not do this again,” he said. “I did that, and I was also a teenager. I was way too obsessed with quidditch, I’m surprised I even passed at all,” he laughed. 

“Yeah, and you ran us into the ground with practice,” Alicia said. 

“You can’t possibly still be mad about that!”

“We’ll hold it against you forever, Oliver.”

…

Nathaniel and Sally Wood were reasonable people. To a degree. They were the sort of people who would tolerate some things, and be micro aggressive over things they disapproved of. 

That was a great way of summing up how they felt about him being gay. He was happy that he’d never copped any actual abuse from them but he could do without them trying to convince him why he should go back to Shane. 

“It’s just that you two were so happy,” Sally said. 

Oliver took a deep breath, set picking up his tea from the counter while his parents sat on the couch. They were meant to come and look at his new flat, not nit-pick at his relationship. Or the fact he’d quit it. He could partially understand them being annoyed or upset for leaving it when they were engaged but the fact they were trying to push him back into it was far too frustrating. 

“I wasn’t, mum,” he said. “I really wasn’t.”

“But he had a good ministry job and–”

“Mum,” he cut her off, setting his mug down. “I wasn’t happy, okay?”

“But he was so good for you!” she said. Nathaniel nodded next to her. 

“Yeah, Oliver,” he said. “You two were a good match. You probably won’t find someone as good as him.”

And we probably won’t approve of him. They didn’t say it but they didn’t need to. They were obsessed with wanting to judge anything in his life. Maybe they wouldn’t try to control it but they sure as hell will try to sway him into the direction they wanted. 

Maybe that was part of why he was with Shane for so long. They would go on about how wonderful he was. How perfect they were together. And he thought they were right. They weren’t treating him being gay as some terrible thing and he should be thankful for that. 

He hated that. He didn’t want their passive aggressive attitude. He wanted them to understand this was his life and it shouldn’t be dictated by how they think he should live it. 

Sometimes he felt if they had the choice, they’d make him straight. They may not hate that he’s gay but they would rather him to be straight, since he can’t just switch his brain to like girls. 

He remembered as a kid when he’d play with girls and they’d affectionately refer to her as his ‘girlfriend’. How his aunt had said he’d be ‘breaking hearts when he grows up’ and they laugh in response. How he’d always be asked if he’d had a girlfriend yet because ‘you’re fifteen there must be a girl you like’. Not having confusing feelings for his former captain. He should have been taking a pretty girl to Hogsmeade to Madam Puddifoot’s. Not admiring male quidditch players’ bodies in magazines and just wondering what it looked like underneath. 

Their actions weren’t malicious or intentional. They just expected him to be straight like most parents do. And maybe that was the most disappointing part. That they were sitting there, just waiting for him to bring home some nice girl they could boast about to their friends. 

He took a deep breath. “I’m sure I will dad. Maybe I’ll find someone even better than him.” 

“But Oliver–” his mum began but he cut her off. 

“Mum, really, it’s fine,” he said. 

It was. It really was.

…

After his parents left he ended up meeting with Jen, Luce, Katie, and Alicia for dinner. He wouldn’t have chosen to be a fifth wheel but they were nice company. He’d always tended to get along with girls a lot better than guys in his experience. Sure, he had Percy at Hogwarts but he’d always gravitated towards forming friendships with girls and overall, had stronger relationships with them. Which tended to serve in his favour after he’d come out. It was easier to approach girls with friendship and stating he was gay than doing the same with guys. There was always the odd one who would be weird around him so he’d given up. 

Although, he wasn’t sure if it was telling most of his closest female friends were all lesbians. It sure got a thumbs up from the odd wizard, which the girls laughed off. He did too but it kind of fell to where his mind was when he was with his parents.

He was expected to like girls. Especially men who looked like him. Masculine. He’d mostly grown up of the not so good relationship he’d had with his masculinity and his sexuality but times like this reminded him people saw him as straight and that was what mattered. He was especially frustrating when he and Shane were dating. He was to awkwardly correct people who thought they were mates.

And then there was dealing with comments on quidditch related things when he’d come out more publically. Mostly, how could a male quidditch player be queer in any capacity. Most still seemed to only wrap the idea of female quidditch players if they were gay, He hated that he still had to deal with it. Jen had told him it was best to just ignore it. Nowadays, most people didn’t care and it was only gossip columns but he still thought about it sometimes. 

He was just happy he could spend time with the girls like this. It made him feel a lot better after having dealt with his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked seeing more lesbians. I love the squad of lesbians tbh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'One chapter a week' I said. Uh, sorry. We're half way though!

Dinner with his parents, by far Marcus’s least favourite event. 

Okay, maybe not his least favourite. Christmas was definitely a lot worse than having dinner with them for an hour and trying to give most of his attention to Chris. And he didn’t have to be around multiple uptight pureblood families. Just his uptight pureblood parents and his more easy going pureblood brother. That wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world but he still dreaded every single dinner. 

Previously it had been mostly because they would use it as a chance to throw heiresses at him but judging by the empty seats where the Greengrass’s had been not too long ago, that wasn’t the plan for tonight. Which was a relief but it had put him on edge for something possibly happening.

Nadia didn’t come that night, Chris saying she was unable to but Marcus suspected it was due to the events of the previous time here. Unfortunately for him and Chris, they had no choice to come. Juliet was still at Hogwarts until Christmas, so she was lucked out until she graduated. 

He pushed his food around, steamed vegetables and roast chicken. Not exactly his favourite but at least he didn’t have to make anything himself. He would’ve mostly rather been with Oliver.

Him and Oliver were still sleeping together regularly and he still weirdly hadn’t slept with someone else. He hadn’t even bothered to gone to the bar he’d always go to. Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood to try and pick someone up, maybe just going to see Oliver was easier. He was able to keep emotions out of it for the most part. He’d left the annoying Gryffindor opinion of him behind. Hot quidditch player he knew as a teenager was enough now. 

It was still a little weird to be sleeping with someone more than once. He’d been at Oliver’s new flat yesterday, more or less breaking in his new bed. He never stayed around afterwards, just like Oliver didn’t stay long when it was his place. That was some sort of agreement they had. There was no reason to stay and do some shit like cuddle. He didn’t cuddle with guys, that was too intimate. Hugs were reserved for family, his siblings, not guys he had sex with. Especially not Oliver Wood. He did want to give Oliver the wrong idea, especially since he was barely out of his breakup. He’d seen guys right after breakups and there was sometimes the odd one looking for a relationship right after leaving one. 

He’d made it clear to Oliver that it was just sex and he seemed to be fine with that. Maybe he still thought he was a conniving Slytherin like all Gryffindors thought of his house and people in it while still at Hogwarts. Maybe he grew out of it but he’d encountered people who still thought all Slytherins were Death Eaters and blood supremacists, despite not having the mark on his arm and had actively avoided it. They didn’t care. 

But Oliver had been treating him in a way that would mean he suspected anything. He hadn’t even glanced at his arm just to make sure he hadn’t run with them. Which was a nice surprise after encountering people who did if he mentioned his last name or his old house status. He knew it would follow him around for a while, maybe even the rest of his life. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know his siblings would be dealing with the same thing, he was especially worried about Juliet. Jules was his baby sister and no matter how old she got he was protective of her. Maybe it was the effect of being the second youngest and only having her younger than him. He’d been at least a little protective since she was a baby and he and Amy would look into her cot as she slept. And on more than one occasion he fell asleep next to it to make sure no one hurt her. He wasn’t entirely sure where that paranoia came from. Maybe it was fear she’d be hurt by dark wizards (before he had known his parents were one of them).

“How have you been, Marcus?” Ursula asked. 

His eyes shifted to Richard for a moment and could see he was scowling. Clearly he was still mad about blurting his sexuality, his parents’ best kept secret, to the Greengrass’s. He should be happy it was that and not being ostracised liked Amy. But the look of disapproval still hurt. At least he wasn’t the type to push himself into the closet out of fear of disapproval. He’d met enough guys like that and they seemed miserable. 

“I’ve been fine, mum,” he said, chewing on a piece of chicken.

His father pursed his lips for a moment. He glanced at Chris next to him he just shrugged. He clearly hadn’t gotten over it but surely he would eventually. It shouldn’t even cause as big of a scandal or whatever bullshit as his father seemed to expect. He’d told plenty of heiresses he was gay just to ease any worry they had. There were the few odd ones who thought it was a secret from his parents and he was telling them so they could partake in a lavender marriage but he always corrected them. He was thankfully not that desperate for his parents’ approval, and unfortunately some were that desperate. He’d heard a few rumours of scandals of men cheating on their wife with a man, and shame being put on that family. 

That made him wonder why his parents were still adamant on pairing him off with an heiress. If he lied and married a woman he’d either be absolutely miserable or it’d end in infidelity. Why would his parents want either of those he’d never know but he’d take constant nudging over having no choice. 

“Me and Nadia are planning to move in together,” Chris cut in. He gave him a grateful look for taking this attention off of him. 

“You are?” Ursula smiled, delight in her tone. Moving in together meant they were one step closer to marriage, and Nadia came from a good family. At least she was sweet, and Marcus actually really liked her. 

He felt his father’s eyes on him. He really hoped he wasn’t going to make a comment on why he hadn’t done the same. He kept his focus on his food, stuffing chicken into his mouth. 

“She’s moving into mine,” Chris continued probably noticing Richard’s glare. “Hopefully will get everything done in the next few weeks.”

Ursula smiled. “That’s great, sweetie!” she said and her eyes strayed on Marcus from a moment before looking down at her food. 

Marcus could still feel his father staring at him and he was ready to shovel it all down so he could leave. He’d eaten most of his chicken but he still had his vegetables to eat. He really needed a bottle of fire whiskey more than anything. 

“We invited the Parkinson’s to come over,” his father mentioned. No one prompted him to continue, but Marcus knew he’d do It anyway. “They have a daughter, a few years younger than you Marcus.”

He stopped eating for a moment and pressed his lips together. He didn’t respond, he didn’t want to encourage this bullshit. 

“I invited them to come to dinner tonight but they turned down the invitation.”

He gripped his fork, doing his best to let the words roll off his back. But he knew where this was going. They hadn’t given up on pairing him off with heiresses, of course they hadn’t. The Greengrass’s must’ve gossiped about his sexuality and the Parkinson’s had clearly heard somehow. Meaning they wouldn’t want their daughter to marry him, or they knew there was no chance there would be a marriage. 

“Shame, dad,” Chris said next to him, a little too quickly. 

“No,” he said. “You know why they didn’t?”

Chris knew, and Richard knew he knew. Marcus also knew, of course he did. He was just finding ways to punish him for it. It wasn’t his damn fault he was gay. They were just unfortunate to have a son who wouldn’t try to please pure bloods. 

He couldn’t just let them treat him like this anymore. “Because they know I’m a big ole poofta?” he asked bitterly. 

Richard blinked at that, then glared at him. “Yes, exactly that,” he said. 

He set his fork and knife down. “Pity,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Dad, please don’t,” Chris said next to him.

“No,” Richard snapped, keeping his attention on Marcus. “I’m sick of this Marcus. You are going to marry a witch. And a pure blood one at that.” 

Anger ran through his veins. “No I won’t!” he shouted. He didn’t mean to but it was already going and he wasn’t going to stop now. “I’m not going to marry a girl just because you want me to!”

“No!” his father shouted back, his own temper clearly rising too. “This is bullshit, you aren’t going to do this to this family.”

“Oh, you mean like, Amy, right? They have a kid and we’ll be booted right off of that sacred twenty-eight shit, right?” 

He heard Ursula’s breath stiffen as his father’s face turned red. “Don’t bring her up. We’re talking about you.”

“What is there to talk about? I’m gay, you’ve known for ten years. I’m not going to marry some heiress to make you happy.”

“You will,” he shouted. He ignored the stabbing in his stomach. 

“Richard, please don’t,” Ursula said as Chris hissed, “Dad.”

He looked over his should right at Chris. “This doesn’t concern you, Chris,” he said. “Unlike Marcus, you are with Nadia who is suitable for you–”

“I’m not Chris!” he banged his fist on the table which shut his father right up. He seemed a little stunned by his outburst but he just couldn’t do it anymore. 

“I’m not going to marry some heiress. I’m not going to marry a witch or anything. If I do get married, it’ll be to a man. That’s one thing that won’t just go away.” 

His father’s eyes narrowed at him. “Marcus–”

“No!” he bit and stood up. “You keep chucking damn heiresses at me and I’m not going to marry any of them!”

His father went silent. His throat was dry and he swallowed. He could see his mother frowning in the corner of his eye and Chris looking somewhere between surprised and relieved. He’d never stood up to his parents like this and that would’ve surprised Chris as much as it had surprised himself. 

His heart was pounding in his ears and he took a deep breath. “I’m leaving,” he said. And before anyone could stop him he stormed out of the dining room so he could Disapparate home.

…

Typically, when he needed to get his frustration out Marcus would turn to getting himself off. That would always calm him down, especially since trying to get it out of his system through sex was difficult since flirting was hard when a certain bite would make its way into his tone. 

But that was the upside to Oliver. He could get it out that way instead,

Oliver had told him he didn’t have practice that day as an invitation to come over but dinner with his parents had forced him to decline. Hopefully just showing up wouldn’t be a problem. 

He Apparated into Oliver’s knew flat and saw him with a thick book, probably about quidditch. He looked up, probably because of the crack that would’ve echoed in the room.

“Oh hey,” he said. Surprise in his tone but one that sounded pleased. He stood up. “Ended early?”

He nodded. “Yep, offer still up?” He’d given himself a few minutes to collect himself and at least repress his frustration. It was still plenty there but he tried not to focus on it.

Still, Oliver gave him a curious look. “Sure nothing happened?” 

He shook his head. He’d hoped he wasn’t being too transparent “It’s fine,” he shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

He frowned. “Okay,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

He cleared his throat. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Sex or no?”

He blinked. “Oh yeah,” he grinned and grabbed him but his robes. “C’mere,” he said as Marcus laughed as he kissed him and pulled him to his room. He almost tripped along the way but he caught himself before Oliver pushed him onto his bed. Clothes were practically torn off, their wands clattering on the floor. Oliver was on top of him, and he could feel his cock pressing against his thigh. His own was pressing between their stomachs. 

All he could think about was having an orgasm and get this frustration out of him. The tension he was still feeling had made its way to his dick, and the only way for it to go away was for him to come. 

He was ready for Oliver to just fuck it out of him before Oliver pulled away and spoke. “I wanna bottom.”

He opened his eyes and looked at him. The thought crossed his mind to say not tonight. He needed to come as soon as possible. He wasn’t in the mood to stretch out a first timer. 

But holy fucking shit, he wanted him to fuck him and he wanted to fuck him so badly. 

No matter how frustrated he was he couldn’t pass that up. 

He grinned at him. “Alright then, on your stomach. Unless you want more foreplay.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and got off of him laying his face on his pillow and propping himself on his knees and laying his face on his arms. “Condoms and lube are in the same place.”

He stared at him for a moment, eyeing his ass. A thought crossed his mind so he quickly got a condom and the lube and propped himself behind him. The thought of Oliver being a moaning mess while he fucked him, gripping the sheets under him as he moaned his name. 

His cock twitched at that thought. But his mind was mostly on other things. 

He leaned to his ass and teased the rings of muscles with his tongue. Oliver gasped and his ass jerked towards his face. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped. He almost laughed a little at that. Clearly his ex hadn’t done this to him before. He was tempted to take a peak to see his reaction but he continued to work his tongue instead. He didn’t want to make him come but he wanted him to be at the point where he was so sensitive and high on pleasure that stretching him out wouldn’t hurt too much. 

Foreplay was always fun after all and he was already melting into the sheets, much to his delight. 

“Marcus, fuck,” he choked out. He worked his tongue into the ring of muscles and Oliver’s body jerked. He was panting as he ran his hand on his thigh, his tongue still working its way in. He was still moaning his name

“God fuck, I’m gonna come before you even fuck me.”

He grinned and pulled away. He whined into his pillow. 

“Oh hush,” he said and picked up the bottle of lube. “Hopefully this will hurt less now.”

He opened the bottle and squirted it onto his fingers. “Ready?” he asked, pressing his finger on the outer ring.

“Yeah,” he said. He pushed his finger into the ring of muscles and Oliver gasped. He paused for a moment. “Keep going,” he said, a small moan escaping his lip. 

He eventually was able to get another finger in, slowly at least. 

This was weirdly intimate. Sex itself was intimate, he knew that. But this was his first time actually prepping a guy for bottoming which was far more intimate than he was used to. 

He pushed that thought aside, his eyes staying on Oliver as his mouth gaped opened, letting out small moans. He bit his lip, ignoring how much he wanted to kiss him. 

“Ready for another finger?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out and he pushed it in. 

“Not hurting too much?” he asked.

He let out a small moan. “High pain tolerance I guess.”

He licked his lip. He thought about going rough on him, thinking he could handle it with his so called high pain tolerance. His pushed his fingers back and forth a little more, watching as he squirmed under him. 

“Marcus, please,” he mumbled, pushing his ass onto his fingers.

He smirked. “Please what, Oliver?” he teased. 

“Fuck me,” he said and pushed himself more on his fingers. “Just, fuck– please fuck me.”

He grinned and pulled his fingers out. He put the condom on and squirted lube onto his hand, coating himself with it. He propped himself behind him and rubbed the tip against the hole. Oliver groaned and the sight was enough to have his entire attention. 

“Wait,” Oliver said quickly. 

Marcus stepped back and frowned. “Yeah?”

He rolled onto his back and stared up at him. “This position.”

Missionary. God, fucking missionary. He would’ve rather Oliver taking him from behind because it missionary was always different for him. See the guy’s face as they had sex was so intoxicating. Too intoxicating and with the way his mind was racing with Oliver it would be ever more so. 

“I uh, I like kissing,” he said a little hastily. 

Of course he would. All the other times they’d had sex he either rode him or it was from behind. Or they were both standing up and giving each other hand jobs. Kissing came sometimes but not regularly. Kissing was a lot easier in missionary. 

But, he didn’t care. He smiled at Oliver. “Alright, ready?” he asked. 

He nodded so he positioned himself on top of him and leaned down and kissed him. He moaned against his lips and he felt him put his hands in his hair. He pressed his cock against his entrance and pushed inside of him. He let the head get in first, and he groaned, mumbling his name against his lips. 

God, he felt like his head was going to explode. 

“How’re you so big,” he mumbled out. 

He smirked against his lips and pushed in more. He gasped, pulling his head back. Marcus took it as chance to kiss his neck, holding him by the hips. 

“Faster,” he breathed out. 

He licked his lip and kissed him again, and started to buck his hips forward. “Like that?” he asked against his lips.

Oliver moaned against his lips. He pulled his lips away and Oliver whined. He smirked at him and found his prostate. He seemed to no longer care about him not kissing him. 

He seemed to be a lot more sensitive than he had thought because he moaned and came all over their chests. 

His face was red and he was sweaty. He looked attractive as hell and before Marcus even realised it, he came himself. 

He pulled out and picked up his wand to clean them up. Oliver was still laid on his bed recovering from his orgasm. 

God, he was kind of gorgeous. 

“Too quick?” he asked, smiling at him. 

He shook his head quickly, sitting up. “Damn good,” he said. “Now I understand the magical g-spot.”

Marcus laughed at that. “Magical is a good way to describe it.”

He nodded. “Still don’t want to talk about whatever was wrong?”

That wiped the smiled right off his face. “I told you nothing was wrong.”

Oliver slightly flinched at that. He didn’t realise how harsh his tone was but he didn’t think too much of it. “Want to stay the night?” he asked instead, clearly still having some nerve.

He thought about it for a moment. He was too exhausted to Disapparate home so resting here for a bit actually wasn’t too bad.

“Okay,” he nodded. “No cuddling though.”

“Wasn’t going to ask.”

He nodded and, while they were both still naked, got under the sheets with him and fell asleep to the sound of Oliver’s light breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing sex scenes lol
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter: anxiety attack, vomiting

All he could hear were screams of his name. People crying for his help. Shrill, terrified screams of ‘Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, please help.’

He was on his broom, looking from left to right dodging flashing green light. He gripped his broom, sweat dripping down his forehead. He flew to the people crying for help, dodging Death Eaters’ spells at him.

Behind him, he could hear more cries for help. His name being screamed over and over. He stopped in his tracks and looked behind him, not seeing where the screams were coming from. That only made the screams from the people he was already flying to screams intense. He turned back to them and flew forwards trying to see more flashing of green light. He still couldn’t see them but he could definitely hear them.

There were still screams behind him, causing him to stop again. He looked behind him, panicked. There were screams in both directions now and he looked back and forth, trying to locate where the screams were coming from. 

He didn’t have a chance to find them before a spell knocked him off his broom. 

Oliver woke up in a pool of his own sweat. His throat felt closed as his heart raced while feeling pain in his chest, and a wave of nausea waved over him. His stomach was in knots and his entire body was trembling. 

He felt like he was going to pass out but he could feel bile in his throat too. 

He forced himself to turn to his side and his throat opened up, vomiting on his sheets. 

He curled up on his side, light-headedness washing over him. 

It was an anxiety attack, he knew that. But he couldn’t pull himself out of it and his entire body was shaking. 

He felt trapped during the entire duration, coping with the reeking smell of his own vomit while he still felt nauseous. He wanted to run but he couldn’t, his body wouldn’t let him. 

It finally ended after god knew how long. The smell of his vomit was burning his nose. He pushed himself up and looked around the room. He remembered Marcus being there last night but he must’ve left sometime when he was asleep. It was probably for the best since he just had an anxiety attack. 

He went to get a drink of water when he was finally able to get out of bed (after cleaning up the vomit with the help of a spell). He had to meet up with Xavier to work out together. He was a muggle born and had some muggle exercise equipment at his house. He didn’t have much of an appetite for breakfast after that morning. 

He decided he should at least take a shower before leaving. He could smell the cold sweat on him. Plus, there was still some remanets of his night with Marcus on him. That wasn’t the nicest combination. 

It was mostly a relief to be under the hot water. The steam cleared his head as he washed it away. It was like washing away the anxiety attack as best he could. He was completely caught off guard with having it. He hadn’t had one for a few weeks. It had pretty much snuck up on him. He’d have to learn how to get out of them. He hoped he’d be able to get a hang on them soon. He hated the feeling of dread it came with. 

He would eventually. He wasn’t going to go running back to Shane just because of this. They were occurring far less nowadays anyway. He’d get a hang on them soon enough. 

…

It had taken a while to get used to muggle exercise machines. Xaiver had goaded him for his how naïve he was. But who could blame him? He was a pure blood who knew almost nothing about muggle technology. 

They’d worked out for a few hours, taking some water breaks but they mostly focussed on themselves. Some music was playing in the background but he tuned that out mostly. 

His mind jumped to Marcus as he ran on the treadmill. Something seemed off about him. He could tell he didn’t want to talk about it and he knew he should respect that, after all he wasn’t his boyfriend and it was none of his business. He didn’t have to divulge information about his personal life to him just because he asked. He seemed to have not wanted to anyway and ultimately, he wanted to respect that. 

Still, after being so used to being with someone who shared all his problems to him it was a difficult shift. But he knew he just had to accept it. They weren’t committed to each other and for all he knew Marcus was sleeping with guys right and left. 

That was why he wanted to bottom last night. He had this twinge of fear Marcus would get bored of him and what they were doing would end. So he changed things up. But he had to be clueless and decide to tell him he wanted to have sex missionary so they could kiss. That should’ve made the man runaway and he was probably lucky he didn’t. It had stung a little when he made it clear he didn’t want to cuddle afterwards. He didn’t expect him to, him staying was enough. He wasn’t falling for him of anything but hopefully it had been nice. If he wasn’t going to tell him what was wrong, he might as well try to give him some piece of mind. He stayed after all. Well, for at least some of the night. 

He was actually thankful he wasn’t there to see him have an anxiety attack. It felt pathetic to still experience them two years after the war. 

He tried to focus on working out. The treadmill was actually a good way to get it done. He stayed in one spot. Maybe Amelia could help him get access to a muggle gym so he didn’t have to rely on Xavier for it. 

“Need a break, Wood?” he asked. “You seem out of it.”

“How long has it been?” he panted out.

“Half hour,” he said. “Maybe take a break before you hurt yourself.”

He figured he should so he turned off the treadmill and got off it, picking up his water bottle and felt a wave of relief when he chugged it down. He really did need a break.

“Got carried away?” he asked, smiling at him.

He wiped his mouth when he pulled the bottle away. “I guess,” he said. “Never used these before.”

He snorted. “You’re such a pure blood sometimes.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get my brother in law to help me out with a gym.”

“You can come by here,” Xavier said, the smile still on his face.

Oh, wait. It wasn’t really a smile to be friendly. It felt like there was more to it. 

He’d never been the best at flirting. Shane was hard enough and he barely got where he was with Marcus. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Mostly because he really wasn’t interested in Xavier. He knew he was pansexual. Hell he’d come out to the rest of the team before he did. 

“How’ve you been anyway?” Xavier asked. “Okay after the breakup with your fiancé?” 

His mouth felt dry. They never talked about Shane before. He’d meant him in passing previously but this was the first time he’d brought him up. 

“I’m okay,” he shrugged. “I’m over it.”

And truthfully, he was. He realised that he really way over him. He hadn’t seen him in weeks and it hadn’t found himself missing him. He was mostly concerned what would happen if he had a nightmare and he wasn’t there to help him out of it. Even though it was still an utterly terrible experience, he now knew he didn’t need him there. It was still an awful experience and yeah, he ended up vomiting, but he recovered on his own. He felt a sense of confidence from that. If they weren’t going to go away at least he could deal with it on his own. 

Xavier smiled again. “That’s great! Honestly, no offence, but I never really liked him.”

He blinked at him, a little caught off guard. He hadn’t expected such… bluntness about his feelings towards Shane. It had never come up before after all and he’d never known Xavier to talk about people behind their back like this. 

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I get he’s a bit of a wanker. But I’m over it, like I said.”

He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink or something. Like, as a date?”

He held back from gaping at him. That wasn’t exactly expected. He’d never seen him that way anyway. And his mind jumped to Marcus.

He didn’t understand why. He could sleep with other guys if he wanted to. Marcus was most definitely doing the same. But he just didn’t find himself interested in him.

“Uh, no,” he said. “No, sorry.”

He looked a little thrown off by the rejection but seemed to recover quickly. “Teammate thing?” he asked. 

He hated disappointing people, it was something he always dreaded. But that was what kept him with Shane for so long and that only lead him to misery. 

But he wasn’t a harsh person, so maybe letting him down easily was still a good option. “Yeah,” he said. They both knew plenty of teammates, and even people on different teams, hooked up sometimes. But it was probably still better to be honest about it. And even if they did hook up it wouldn’t be fair to Xavier if all he could think about was Marcus. 

He ended up leaving after another half hour of working out and Xavier didn’t seem to be bitter or anything. When he was done, after having a quick shower at home he decided to Apparate to Marcus’s flat. They seemed to throw out the owl idea a while ago, favouring to just Apparate in when they knew the other would be home. 

When he Apparated into Marcus’s flat he noticed the lounge room was empty. He heard the sound of the shower and it getting turned off.

“Marcus?” he decided to call. 

The call was followed by footsteps and Marcus stepped out in nothing but a towel. He’d only seen him the night before but he could already feel his bad mood. His hair was already curling from the shower water but he could see bags under his eyes. 

He didn’t really look pleased to see him. “No, not tonight,” he said. 

He frowned. “Oh, okay,” and before he could stop himself he said. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he bit a little too harshly. Even he seemed surprised by his bitterness. He sighed. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to snap.”

He blinked. “Oh, it’s whatever,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me, I’ll leave.”

He just shrugged. “Whatever.”

He waited for him to say no but he didn’t. So he took out his wand and Dissaparated to his flat.

…

He decided to go to that bar they saw each other. He was allowed to sleep with other people after all, strangers even. That was the damn point of their arrangement. 

He shouldn’t be so mad he was. Marcus wasn’t his boyfriend he owed him nothing. He didn’t have to say if something was wrong. He wasn’t even upset he said no to sex, but he wanted to know why he seemed to be as upset as he was. 

He shouldn’t be nosy. It wasn’t his business after all. 

The bar was kind of quiet. It was like the only other time he’d come. He glanced around, seeing mostly people sitting in groups but some couples sat together. He decided to go straight to the counter to order a drink. He noticed the bartender was kind of cute. But his mind jumped to compare him to Marcus. He didn’t have any piercings or tattoos and he was skinny with hair that had a good amount of hair gel to spike it up. So opposite of Marcus it was almost laughable. 

He ordered a beer, and decided to save the attempt of flirting for later. Maybe a drink would calm his nerves a little before he made an attempt.

He was about half way through his bear when a body leaned against the counter next to him. He glanced at the person to see a man smiling at him. He was actually kind of attractive, but he still felt unsure. He still found himself comparing him to Marcus. 

He was more lean than muscular, and he had smooth features unlike Marcus’s rugged ones. His facial hair was smooth, unlike Marcus’s almost scraggly facial hair. His eyes were a weird dark green, not like Marcus’s grey eyes that complimented his black hair. 

He really needed to stop with the comparing. It hadn’t happened with Shane so why was it happening with Marcus? Hell, Marcus coincidentally was as opposite to Shane as he could get. Shane was skinny, shorter than him, and had dead straight blonde hair, and almost not a prick of facial hair. 

This guy had some. But it seemed to be too blonde to be seen easily. He had a nice smile though, straight teeth. Unlike Marcus’s crooked set. Any rational person would probably prefer the straight set but he still had a thing for Marcus’s crooked set. It made him looked unique almost, a peak into imperfection that made him appeal more to him. He was always drawn to imperfections. It was like animals with mismarks, it brought a certain uniqueness through it. Maybe that’s why he was drawn to Marcus. The crooked teeth, the crooked nose even, made him more attractive to him. 

“Hi,” the guy says. His voice was smooth, clearly from the north. “Haven’t seen you much around here.”

Oliver blinked at him. “Uh, only been here once before,” he shrugged. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I saw you then. Marcus seemed to get your attention before I could.”

He stopped himself from frowning. This guy had seen him? He wasn’t sure if that was weird to him. He was a little surprised to hear he knew Marcus, but if Marcus was a regular then maybe it shouldn’t be too odd. This guy was probably a regular too. 

“I knew him in school,” he shrugged. “Wanted to catch up. 

“But you left with him anyway,” he pointed out. He shrugged again. “Swear to god that man is allergic to commitment, he’d never slept with a guy more than once as far as I know.”

Wait, never? How could he have possibly never slept with a guy more than once. Aside from him. 

He surely couldn’t be the only guy he’d slept with more than once. Even if it wasn’t a commitment they’ve sure as hell slept with each other enough. What made him different? 

“So he gets around?” he asked instead.

He nodded. “Yep. From what I’ve heard he’s slept with enough of the regulars. Not so easy on the eyes but he’s far from small, so that’s probably the only reason why.”

He felt awkward hearing that. He’d heard enough goads at Marcus’s appearance in Hogwarts, mostly the troll comments. He hadn’t thought about it back then. He never really partook in the insults anyway. As far as now, he found him achingly attractive. Sure, maybe he wasn’t conventionally attractive. But that was kind of why he was so attractive to him. He wasn’t a pretty boy that tended to get celebrated, like some of the guys in the quidditch league. 

He liked that he was more rough around the edges. He liked that that he was imperfect outwardly. He himself was pretty imperfect on the inside after all. He wasn’t even a dreadful person; he was funny for one thing. He could also be gentle, the night before showed him enough of that. There was clearly a certain softness to him he hid, and he didn’t expect him to show it. He wished he would open up to him, it shouldn’t matter if they weren’t boyfriends. 

Maybe he was just used to how his relationship with Shane was. And Marcus wasn’t Shane.

That aside, he was a little caught off guard with how blunt this guy was. It was weirdly harsh. Saying Marcus was ugly to bluntly seemed weirdly cruel. He almost felt the need to defend him. He didn’t know what he’d get out of that, aside from some reassurance he didn’t have some fucked up taste in men. 

He gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “Uh, we’ve actually slept with each other more than once.” The weird comment on Marcus’s ability to commit felt odd to him. He remembered him telling him he didn’t like relationships on their first night but that wasn’t the same as being completely incapable. That almost implied cheating to him, like if Marcus were in a relationship we wouldn’t be able to do anything but cheat.

He didn’t know where this weird defensive attitude was coming from. He knew Marcus didn’t want a relationship, with him or anyone. So this guy telling him what he already knew shouldn’t bother him this much. 

The guy gave him a curious look. “Like a casual thing or a boyfriend thing?”

“Casual.” 

The guy gave him a once over, like the kind you’d give an opponent. 

No, he wasn’t. He was checking him out. Despite all this, he still wasn’t interested and after that conversation his mind was only on Marcus. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. 

He shook his head. “Nah,” he said, taking a sip of the beer he already had. “Not interested.”

The guy looked disappointed but shrugged. “Fine, see you around.”

The guy walked off and Oliver bit his lip. He was really bad at this. His mind can’t just jump to Marcus every single time. 

“I sort of know Marcus,” a voice spoke. He glanced at the bartender from before. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

He turned to him. “Oh,” he shook his head. “No it’s fine.”

“I haven’t seen him in weeks, though,” he said. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yeah, last time I saw him he didn’t take anyone home from what I saw. The time before that was with you.”

He stared at the man for a moment. “So you mean he’s probably not slept with anyone since me?” his voice was small. From the way Marcus spoke about himself, that felt weird. Why wouldn’t he sleep with someone else? 

He nodded. “He could be sleeping with other people but no one from here.”

That was odd. Really odd. That would mean Marcus, who apparently didn’t sleep with a guy more than once, was only sleeping with him. That just seemed out of character. 

Maybe he was just busy and he was the easiest to get to. He shouldn’t over think this. He’d agreed to not catch feelings. He wasn’t, and Marcus didn’t like him like that. That was the point. 

He just gave the bartender a shrug and finished his beer. He decided to just head straight home, he wasn’t going to sleep with anyone tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

Marcus had forgotten Christmas was closing in on them until he saw the Christmas decorations covering most of Gringotts. 

If it were a possibility, he’d skip Christmas all together. He hated Christmas. His childhood memories were at best, boring and stuffy dinners. At worst, it was his parents wanting him to impress old pure blood families. 

He wasn’t a social person. Charming guys was easy, but trying to show pure blood families that he was worth more than the dirt on his shoe was difficult. He never even really got along with the prestigious pure blood kids around his age. They tended to have a posh high horse vibe to them. Not his favourite attribute. 

His parents would also sometimes use it as a way to throw girls into his direction. He expected that, but hopefully with the gossip of his sexuality it wouldn’t happen anymore. It was the best he could hope for. His parents hadn’t even ever been necessarily pushy. They’d more nudge him towards those girls. He’d always talk to them out of politeness, but usually that conversation would start with him saying “don’t worry, I’m gay.” It was usually relief, the occasional “me too” from time to time. Then a pleasant conversation would follow. If they didn’t take the opportunity to run at least. 

He figured at this point his parents wouldn’t do the same as previous years, seeming with what with all the gossip. Unless he was literally forced into the marriage, which was thankfully a dead tradition, he wasn’t going to court any of the heiresses. He was the lost cause of an heir. He was fortunate enough that he wasn’t the eldest. That came with even more troubles. Amy had enough before he was cut off but Chris must’ve had his own too. At least he actually loved Nadia, who was so perfectly suitable it was almost ridiculous. 

He was happy for him, he just resented his parents compared them to the point he was seen as lesser in their eyes. Maybe even worse than they saw Amy. She made a choice but his biggest flaw in their eyes was out of his control. Maybe the solution was to find a prestigious pure blood guy to marry, that should be the obvious solution. But that wouldn’t fit that usual expectations, it would just cover the bare minimum. 

He was still angry at his parents after dinner. He thought he was okay after being with Oliver but then he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. It hurt more than anything and typically he always converted his hurt into anger. Around other people at least. Either anger or bottling it all up. Letting himself cry over it after the Greengrass situation was the most hurt he’d let himself feel in so long. 

Oliver barging in was especially unexpected. Having a hot shower was his go to for calming down and he came in the middle of it. At first he’d thought he was going to ask why he left in the night but when he saw the ridiculously adorable smile on his face, he knew he came for sex. 

Usually he’d never pass up sex but he was far from mentally prepared to act like anything was okay. Hell, he’d snapped at him. He wouldn’t even call himself a nice person, but he didn’t want to treat someone he kind of sort of cared about in such a way. 

He was a little resentful that he tried to dig in and see what the exact problem was. He didn’t have to know how his parents were. They were probably the ridiculously supportive ones. He’d gotten far enough to have a fiancé after all. 

Maybe he was too harsh. He probably just cared in that annoying way of his. But he barely let people get close and letting the likes of Oliver Wood close to him? Not likely. 

A crack sounded in his flat and saw Chris standing at the front door. 

He held back a snort. “Heard of knocking, Chris?” he asked, a cup of coffee in his hand as he sat on his couch.

“Nice to see you too, smartass,” he smiled and sat on the couch with him.

He took a sip of his coffee. “What brings you around?” he asked. He wasn’t displeased to see his brother or anything but it was kind of unlike him to just Apparate in like this.

He noticed him shift. “What do you mean?” he asked.

He almost sighed. Chris was a lot like him in the part where he just couldn’t share feelings or was pretty much incapable at telling people something they didn’t want to hear. 

“The Greengrass’s will be at mum and dad’s Christmas ball.”

A wave of dread washed over him. That didn’t necessarily mean his parents were going to try and set him up with that girl again. What was her name again? Dara, Danielle, something like that.

“And yes, they’re going to do that whole thing with Daphne again, or try.”

He gaped at him. “What the fuck? I thought the Greengrass’s got the message I’m not interested.”

“I overheard them talking to mum and dad, they came over. Apparently they think you’ll magically stop being gay if you have her shoved at you enough.” 

Dread, that’s all he felt. He really hoped his parents were starting to get the message. Maybe not acceptance but a begrudging tolerance for him. But no, they were instead finding ways to completely ignore him. 

“Sorry, Marc,” he said softly, clearly feeling guilty.

He sighed. “It’s not your fault,” he said. He was glad he wasn’t the type of person who would hold this against Chris. Even though their parents continuously compared them and expected him to be just like him, that wasn’t his fault. For all he knew, Chris had dated witches who weren’t pure bloods in secret, and wanted to avoid the disapproval too. 

“Still, they don’t treat me how they treat you. It’s fucked up.”

He sighed. “I know, thanks for telling me,” he bit. He was far harsher than he intended. 

Chris looked away, looking guilty. He was going to apologise for snapping until he spoke. “Maybe bring a date or something? That could cool them off.” 

“’A date’,” he echoed with a snort. “Seriously?” 

He shrugged. “A fake date if you’re desperate. Sure you don’t think you can find anyone?”

His mind jumped right to Oliver. He should make the most sense. He was a wizard and he was at easy access. The fact they were already sleeping together aside Oliver was the type to accept a favour. Especially one so small. All he had to do was pretend to be his boyfriend for the night. He might even be fine with casual touches to look convincing. An arm around the shoulder, using five simple words ‘this is my boyfriend, Oliver.’

It’d be a hell of a lot more effective way to confirm the gossip about him being gay, that was for sure. But that would mean him knowing more than he initially wanted him to. Maybe he’d get it. Maybe he’d actually tell him how terrible his parents were. 

“It was just a suggestion,” Chris said. 

“Not a bad one, actually” he muttered. Maybe he will ask Oliver. Hopefully this won’t blow up in his face.

…

For the first time in a while, he sent Oliver and owl to ask if he could come by. He also made it clear he wanted to ask him something. Might as well get it done as soon as possible.

He replied soon enough, and he Disapparated to his flat. 

When he arrived at the flat he saw Oliver and noticed he was sweaty. He must’ve had practice today. He ignored how attracted he was to him seeing him so flushed. 

“Hey,” he smiled. “What’d you wanna ask?” He was drinking a bottle of water, leaning on a stool by his counter.

He leaned against the couch, crossing his arms and smiling at him. “You doing anything Christmas Eve?” 

He blinked, clearly not expecting that to be his question. “No, why?”

“My parents always host a ball. One of those dreadful pure blood ones. Was thinking about snagging you for company as my date.”

His brows rose at the word ‘date’. “Uh, sure okay. But can you, like, expand why me? Or why you want to bring a date.” 

His shoulders felt stiff. “What I said,” he said. “Company.”

He clearly didn’t believe him but he didn’t push more. He looked over his shoulder at a cabinet. “Well, while you’re here want some fire whiskey?” he asked when he turned back to him.

He let a smile stretch on his lips. “Sure.”

They settled on the couch, a glass each with the bottle open on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Can I ask you something a little weird?” Oliver asked, already half way through his first glass. Before he could answer, he continued. “Why do you only sleep with guys once?”

He drew his brows together. That was an unexpected question. How would he even know that? He pressed his lips together. “I don’t want anyone to get attached,” he said. If he started to drill him with questions, he might leave. 

“What makes me different?” 

He almost flinched at the question. He should’ve seen that coming.

What the hell did make him different? Easy access came to his mind, he wanted to get off he could easily go to Oliver. That’s why he hadn’t bothered to pick up guys at the bar. He hadn’t had the energy to go out, so he went to Oliver. 

He never thought about Oliver getting attached to him. Because of their history together he just didn’t think he’d develop any new feelings. Much less get attached. 

That was the truth, he realised. Oliver knew him at Hogwarts and he wasn’t that great of a person back then. He was only a little better now. But not the kind of person he’d expect Oliver would go for. 

“You already know how awful I am,” he answered with a shrug.

His eyes widened a little, probably not expecting such a level of self-deprecation. 

He wasn’t necessarily nice, and that was especially to himself at times. 

He licked his lip. “I, uh, don’t think that,” he said. His tone actually sounded genuine. He almost believed it. 

He didn’t seem to be done with asking him questions though. Because he asked another question. 

“What is with you and muggle men?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you sleep with them so much?”

He blinked at him. How did he know he’s only slept with muggle men? How the hell did he know he had never slept with someone twice? 

“You were at that bar, weren’t you?” he guessed. He didn’t want to sound accusatory, which he might have with how he flinched, but he was surprised. He should’ve guessed that he’d go back to sleep with someone else. He probably did because they weren’t exclusive or anything like that. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Some bloke said he saw us together and mentioned you hadn’t. Then, I don’t know, the bartender told me you haven’t gone to the bar in a while even though you were a regular. I kind of made the conclusion on my own.”

He felt a knot in his stomach. He was really starting to dig in. Because sure, he had his personal reasons for only sleeping with muggle men, that being fear of commitment, but the situation with his parents was part of it too. It was a combination of both. 

He poured himself more alcohol. He’d need it to talk about this. 

“Muggle men are easier to shake off,” he said after he swallowed his drink, the fire whiskey burning down his throat. “They have phone numbers and shit, I don’t obviously. If I saw them at the bar, I’d ignore them.”

His brows drew together. “Is it just commitment? You’ve been sleeping with me enough.”

“Because we already knew each other,” he defended. 

He frowned. “Is that all?” 

He looked at him, then at his glass. He threw it back, maybe a little too much. He’d caught him, and now there was no way he was backing out now. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and as he poured another drink as he answered. 

“I guess I do it because my parents are borderline blood purists,” he said. “It’s a way for me to get back at them. The muggle part, and the man part.”

He looked turned from confusion into what seemed to be, pure understanding. Of course he would at least be able to emphasise at least a little bit. Maybe not on his level, he really doubted it. But maybe there was something there. He was gay too after all, he shouldn’t act like he was the only one who’d ever copped shit about it. 

“Unsupportive parents then?” he asked carefully. 

He nodded. “Yep,” he grunted taking a sip of the fire whiskey and sighed. “They basically don’t acknowledge I’m gay. They keep pushing heiresses at me, as in to marry. That’s why I need you to come. My brother told me they’re going to try setting me up with this girl, even though she and her fucking parents both know I’m gay – long story. But even if you’re a fake boyfriend, I just hope they’d understand that they need to stop.”

He stared at him, gaping a little. He must’ve been expecting something far less bad. But maybe it was best to tell him what he was in for before he actually went with him. 

“I’m,” he sighed. “Fuck, Marcus I had no idea.”

He shrugged. Of course he didn’t know. He didn’t tell him. He wasn’t even sure how to react. He’d already shared far more than he’d intended on. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. But he felt like he could trust him. There was something about him he trusted. Maybe it was because he’s gay. He wouldn’t have had this conversation with Xander or Bill. It was easier with Adrian and Terence too. Maybe that’s why some guys blurted all their family problems to him.

“What are your parents like?” he decided to ask. He wasn’t uncomfortable having that much attention on him. “With the whole gay thing?”

He shuffled, finishing his own drink and pouring another. “Not on your level. More, I guess, micro-aggressive.”

He raised his brow at him. “What do you mean?”

He licked his lip and looked away from him at his drink. “When I told them, they didn’t say they were angry or anything. They said they were surprised because I played sport.”

“Oh, fuck. I fucking get that,” he said. Because he was on the more masculine side, people were always surprised to find out he was gay. He never knew how to react to it. It always made him angry, he struggled with masculinity enough by being gay, hence why he’d never cried. But when his sexuality was questioned because of it, that was way worse. It felt like they were a version of his parents, the people who still refused to understand this about him wasn’t going to go away. 

He smiled. “At least you don’t have to deal with straight guys who spent weeks thinking you were looking at them in the showers.”

“Nah, our gay asses were the first one in and the first out of there when closeted.”

Oliver laughed and nodded when he looked at him again. “Every time and still now,” he nodded. “I think it’s weird with the team though. Like, I’m not the only queer guy on the team or anything. I have a teammate who’s pansexual, but I guess the difference with him is that if the blokes want to talk about girls he’s there. Then there’s also Corey and Jen who’re both lesbians.”

“Sanctuary from straight guys?”

He nodded. “Yep, although there were so many article about in gossip columns about whether or not me and Jen were secretly shagging.” He scrunched his nose at the words and laughed. 

He smiled. This was nice actually. Really nice. He was enjoying his company the same way he did when they saw each other at the bar but without that air of awkwardness. 

“But yeah,” Oliver shrugged. “My parents are micro aggressive about the whole thing. With my ex, they told me if I were going to be gay, at least it was a guy as ‘great as Shane’.” He said the last part with nothing but contempt. He wasn’t going to pry and ask about Shane, that was between them. He probably didn’t want to share it anyway. 

“It’s not like you but yeah, it sucks.”

“It still, you know, is valid,” he assured. 

Oliver just nodded. 

God, they needed to step away from this. “When’d you come out?” he asked instead. 

“Seventh year,” he said. “Surprise to none of my friends or the team. Since I never really noticed when girls flirted with me, I guess people notice. The team too.”

He smiled. “There was a joke among my team that the only reason the girls were on your team was because you were shagging them.” He grimaced at his old joke, trying to laugh it off.

Oliver scrunched his nose at him. “Well, Katie and Alicia are lesbians for one thing so no anyway.”

“Yeah, fucked up kid I was. But you already knew that,” he shrugged.

“What about you?” he asked. “Your big old coming out?”

He laughed. “As if it only happens once and not the rest of your life,” he said. “I came out to my family when I was fifteen. I didn’t tell anyone while still at school though. Didn’t feel I could trust them. I did end up telling Higgs, remember him?”

“Bloke you knocked off the team in favour of that Malfoy brat and Nimbus 2001’s?”

He smiled. “Please don’t tell me you’re still holding that against me.”

“Maybe a little.”

“You won the game! And then you won in seventh year!”

“Even though you changed your line up for strength instead of skill, I remember.” 

He was smiling as he said that. And it was kind of sweet. He looked a little proud of himself. 

“Anyway, Higgs?”

“Oh, right,” he nodded. “I saw him when I was leaving work once and we were friends so I said hi. He mentioned he and Pucey were a couple now so I kind of blurted I was gay too.”

He smiled. “It’s like your brain went, ‘found one! Must befriend again’.”

Marcus laughed, throwing his head back. “Yep, I would say so. He wasn’t surprised though.”

“Well, at least some people from school know,” he said, clearly trying to sound reassuring. “You still talk?”

“If by talk you mean occasionally barge into his and Pucey’s flat then yeah, we talk. Work keeps us busy.” 

He nodded. “So you have them who’re cool with the gay thing, anyone else? How about your siblings?”

“They’re cool with it. I came out to them before my parents. They’ve never said anything against it.”

He smiled. “That’s great! My sister was really supportive too.”

He bit his lip. He realised this was close. Too close. He couldn’t be this vulnerable. Why was he even letting himself be like this? He was letting him far too in. He should’ve stopped at what he’d expect from the night. Not tell him his life story.

“So,” he said, standing up. “I guess it’s getting late I should probably head back. Do you have floo so I don’t leave my head or something? I don’t think I should Apparate after drinking, y’know?”

Oliver looked surprised at his sudden movements. But he still nodded. “I’ll show you.”

He gave him a smile, one that wasn’t genuine like what he saw in their bantering, and showed him to his fireplace.


	13. Chapter 13

Marcus had mentioned that his parents Christmas ball was formal and lucky for Oliver, he had dressrobes he saved for events like this. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect at the ball aside from a mass amount of pure bloods. He’d never been one for social events. He was expecting it to be similar to ministry galas Shane always dragged him to if anything. He expected the same looks when people found out he played quidditch. Maybe intrigue but mostly a scoff. Hopefully they wouldn’t run into homophobes which seemed to be inevitable at every gala. 

It was probably something likely at an uptight, snooty pure blood event. He at least had a level of patience and could control himself in the best stations. Unless slurs were snarled at him at least. That always set him off.

He was surprised to hear what Marcus had to go through. He didn’t expect his parents to be dismissive to the point they tried to marry him off to a girl. It kind of horrified him. He couldn’t imagine having parents who were that dismissive of him. 

Their talk was nice though. He got a real look at the man Marcus was now instead of the kid he knew years ago. He seemed to hide and bury a lot. Running off would make more sense. He wasn’t really hurt by him running off, but he seemed a little jumpy. 

He tried to not think too much about that part. But it still made him feel odd. They were finally really talking, something that wasn’t surface level. Where they could really connect on something they had in common that wasn’t quidditch. It kind of hurt that he ran.

He wasn’t developing any feelings for him. He was sure of that. At least before their talk. The fact he was taking him to meet his parents and his siblings wasn’t helping either. He didn’t want to give himself the wrong idea, he knew it was just to help Marcus’s parents get off his back. He wasn’t even sure how they were going to interact together. There would probably be boundaries. Which almost felt ridiculous since they’re having sex. But maybe that was because they’d been reserving intimacy for sex. 

He Apparated into Marcus’s flat, wearing his dressrobes and his hair more combed than he was used to. He also remembered to put on a little cologne before leaving which he forgot to put on half the time. 

He could see Marcus from his room where he was standing wearing his dressrobes, and saw him putting something in his hair. Whatever it was, it made his curls sleek down. That was a little disappointing, he liked his curly hair. But maybe it was because it was formal. 

“Hey,” Marcus called, patting his curls down. “You’re early,” he commented. 

He shrugged. “Punctual, I guess.”

Marcus stepped from his room to the lounge room. “Great, my parents will love you,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“No curls?” he commented.

“My parents hate the curls, even though it’s a family thing. I’m half sure we keep Sleekeazy on the market.”

He smiled and reached his hand forward, Marcus smiling and nodding his head down so he could run his fingers through his hair. “It’s weird seeing it straight though,” he said. 

Marcus sniffed for a moment, his brows drawing together. “Are you wearing cologne?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He smiled. “You smell really nice.” 

He laughed and stepped away. “Save the flirting for afterwards,” he patted his chest. 

Disappointment flashed in his eyes but he nodded. 

“So, what? What’s your plan to pass us off as boyfriends?” he asked. 

He blinked. “Oh, yeah. No kissing or anything don’t worry. Just planning to keep an arm ‘round you at most. That fine?” 

He should’ve expected the definitive ‘no kissing’ part. He might’ve actually been okay with a peck or anything. A casual kiss on the cheek. But he was definitely against that. Because the only times they’ve kissed lead to sex. He loved to kiss him but if Marcus wasn’t comfortable with that, he wouldn’t try to initiate anything. 

“Arm’s fine,” he said with a shrug. “We taking the floo or Apparating?” 

“Apparating is easiest,” he said. “Too many people are coming in through floo. I’ll drive.”

He smiled at him and held out his hand. “Ready,” he said. 

He smiled at him as he took out his wand. “Trust me, you’re not.” With a wave of his wand and a crack, within a few seconds they were standing outside a manor. It was one of those old types, the ones of stereotypical pure bloods. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised that this was where he had grown up. But he tried to not think too much about it. It was a lot to take in. 

“Big place,” he said. Especially compared to his flat. Which was on the semi big side, this was massive.

Marcus scrunched his nose and shrugged. “Too big,” he said. He huffed. “Okay, let’s go.”

He nodded and they walked into the ballroom together. There were already a few witches and wizards standing around. Mostly older ones, and that made him shuffle closer to Marcus. He didn’t seem to mind and placed his hand on the small of his back. Like he was being protective. Maybe the environment was doing it to him if he’d caught sight of familiar faces. 

“Marcus! You’re here!” 

The man that called his name was walking forward with a woman by his side. The man looked almost exactly like Marcus. Black hair sleeked back – probably with the sleekeazy – and the same dark grey eyes. He was less burly than him though, and his teeth were straight. He was almost like the more put together version of him. This must be his brother. 

The girl by his side had blonde hair and brown eyes. Definitely not his sister. 

“Hey Chris,” Marcus grinned, looking pretty happy to see him. “And of course I’m here. Never miss a night to suffer.” 

The man laughed and eyed Oliver for a moment. “Hey, you’re the Puddlemere keeper right?”

He smiled and nodded. This happened from time to time. He didn’t get recognised frequently, but it wasn’t a total surprise when he did. 

His mind jumped back to Shane and how he’d always be annoyed when he was. It had always hurt but he’d learnt to put up with it. His eyes glanced to Marcus and he didn’t appear bothered by it at all. He was actually smiling. 

“Yep, snagged up a quidditch player,” he said, nudging him with his shoulder.

He smiled. Marcus being playful was always quite nice.

“I’m Marcus’s brother, Chris,” he nodded to the girl he was with. “This is Nadia, my girlfriend.”

“Oliver,” he said, smiling at the couple. The C on his chest had been found by the look of it. 

“Why’s this the first time I’m knowing you have a boyfriend?” Nadia asked, raising her brow and smiling. 

Chris smiled. “Yeah, Marky, why’d you keep him from us?”

Marcus glared at him. “Don’t call me Marky,” he said. “And can’t I keep anything secret?”

“Okay, I think the girls will love him though,” he said. “Jules is still in her room getting ready so hopefully she doesn’t steal him from you,” he laughed. 

Marcus practically lit up at the name. “Merlin, I’ve missed the hell out of Jules,” he said. 

Jules must’ve been his sister. That would cover the J tattoo. It was nice seeing how happy he was about his siblings. It reminded him of how himself and Amelia were. For some reason he’d never thought about how Marcus would be with potential siblings. Sweet like this wasn’t it but he liked it. 

“Is Amy coming or, what?” Marcus asked Chris.

He shook his head. “No.”

He groaned. “Not ever for Christmas?”

“Do you really think mum and dad would want her parading John around?”

He still looked disappointed. “I’d’ve hoped things were better by now. It’s Christmas after all.”

He looked at Marcus, whose gaze had shifted to his feet. He shrugged. “I think coming with Oliver will be enough for them,” he joked. He laughed but it didn’t sound genuine. Chris’s face said enough that it definitely wasn’t. 

“Well, I hope you have a good time. Gonna introduce Nadia to some of the cousins,” he said. “I’ll see you two later, I’ll tell Oliver some embarrassing stories about you.”

That got his attention back. “You will not!” he laughed.

He shook his head. “Nope, I have plenty. Like that time you asked if you could marry some quidditch player who was on the cover of the prophet when you were seven.” 

Before Marcus could get in another word, Chris patted his shoulder and he and Nadia walked off. 

Oliver smiled at the annoyed look on his face. It was the kind of face you’d expect after siblings teasing. He’d kiss the look away if he were okay with it. 

“He seemed nice,” he said, smiling at him. 

Marcus huffed and looked at him. “He’s an asshole but I love him,” he shrugged. 

He nodded. “So, who was the quidditch player? Gotta know who I’m competing with.” 

He rolled his eyes but still smiled. “I don’t even remember, but he loves telling that story.”

He wanted to ask about Amy but that boundary felt like something he should stay away from unless he wanted to tell him. 

“My sister makes a lot of jokes about me too. I had my walls coated in male quidditch player posters ever since I was little. Never wanted girls. She usually introduces me to people that way.”

He smiled. Before he could say anything though, a girl was running to them and she jumped onto Marcus’s back. Marcus grinned and laughed. 

“Hey, Marky,” the girl said, still hooked onto his back.

“Hey Jules!” he said. He didn’t seem to mind being called ‘Marky’ this time.

He set her down and she looked at Oliver. She looked a lot like Marcus. Grey eyes and black curly hair was definitely a strong gene. She had makeup on and looked to be around eighteen. “Who’s this?” she asked.

“My boyfriend, Oliver,” he said. 

He ignored the fuzzy feeling 

She grinned, bouncing on her heels. “Finally, I’ve been wanting to meet one of your boyfriends.”

He expected Marcus to roll his eyes but he was still smiling at his sister. That made him smile. Seeing Marcus seem to completely adore his sister was actually a really nice thing to see. 

“Anyway, Oliver, this is Juliet. My baby sister,” Marcus said and held hick hand. There were those weird butterflies again. He knew they were just playing it up for everyone around them. 

“I resent the term ‘baby’,” she said, crossing her arms. 

“Nah,” he said. “You’re a baby,” he said and pulled her to his chest to hug her. She laughed and he messed up her hair. 

“Okay, I get it,” she said and pushed him away. “Is Amy here?” she asked. 

He frowned and shook his head. “No, Jules, she isn’t.”

Her face dropped. She clearly looked upset. “Oh,” she said. “I was hoping mum and dad would let her come.”

Oliver saw Marcus eyes shift to him from the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he said. “Why don’t you go say hi to our cousin?” he said and pecked the top of her head.

She nodded and walked off to a group of teenagers. Oliver watched her for a moment before Marcus spoke. 

“Amy’s my older sister,” he said. “She married a muggle and now my parents want nothing to do with her.”

He turned to look at him. “Oh, fuck. That sucks Marcus,” he said. It’s all he could say.

He shrugged. “I still visit her, and so do Chris and Jules. But yeah, we kind of expected them to react angrily over her falling in love with a muggle.” 

“Still,” he said. “It sucks. My sister married a muggle and I can’t expect mine reacting like that.”

He shrugged. “It happens,” he said. 

It was getting awkward. He shouldn’t have let him go into it. It wasn’t his business to know. 

“Juliet seemed sweet,” he said. “You seem like you really love her.”

He seemed relieved the conversation went this way. “I love her to pieces,” he said. “Only time I got the chance to be a big brother.”

He smiled. “I’m the baby of the family so I don’t know what that’s like,” he said. “I like it, it’s sweet.” He was being too sentimental. Before Marcus could catch on, he quickly steered it. “Wouldn’t have guessed six years ago you were a big ole softy for your little sister.”

He snorted. “Don’t go ‘round telling people.”

They smiled at each other. It was nice. Too nice. His brain might even convince him that Marcus had feelings for him when he obviously didn’t. He was still pretty sure he didn’t like him anyway. He wasn’t going to jump at the first guy who threw him a bone.

He looked over Marcus’s shoulder at some of the people around. He wasn’t expecting to see anything all that interesting. It had gotten a little more crowded over time. 

He especially didn’t expect to see Chad fucking Roberts. 

Roberts seemed to see him too and he smirked at him across the room. An evil conniving smirk he wished he could punch right off of his face. Like he did in that pub.

Marcus seemed to realise he was looking at something and followed his gaze across the room. 

“Fuck, I hate Roberts,” he muttered before turning back to him. “His on the Cannons, so I’m guessing you know him?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said. “Actually, I–”

“Flint, good evening.”

Marcus pressed his lips together in annoyance, probably trying to keep his composure. He put a hand on Oliver’s waist before he turned to face Roberts. “What do you want, Roberts?” he asked.

He laughed. “Calm down tiger,” he said. He eyed Oliver. “I see you know Wood?” he asked in his annoying condescending tone. 

“Yep, point?”

He smirked. “Oh how lovely, you actually found someone with such low standards they don’t think you’re repulsive.”

Marcus paled. Concern waved through him. He must’ve struck a nerve. He didn’t want to see him like that. He was used to seeing Marcus strong, seeing him not caring what others thought of him. 

“Can’t see you here with anyone, Roberts,” he said, glaring at him. 

His eyes shifted to him, glowering at him. “What happened to that nice old ministry bloke?” he asked. “Don’t want to come off as a gold digger, do you?”

His words caught in his throat. He wanted to deny it, of course he wasn’t a gold digger. He knew that, Marcus knew that. 

They weren’t even in a relationship. Why did he care so much?

Either way, Marcus drew him closer to his side. He let the smile stretch on his lips. 

“That’s the only way anyone will marry you, Roberts,” he said. “You gonna fuck off or what?”

He scowled and looked between them. “Fine,” he said. “But I wonder what your parents would think if your darling bashed me in the face.”

He turned around and left them. Oliver could feel his stomach drop. Roberts was the type that always needed to have the last word. Even if it meant potentially ruining, what he thought was, a relationship. 

“You really punched him?” Marcus asked, letting him go and turning to him. He ignored how much he missed that hold.

“He called me a ‘poofta’ like, three times.”

His brows rose. “Fuck, I hate him,” he said. “He definitely deserved it. He once asked me if I was only gay because no girls liked me.”

He scrunched his nose. “Wanker,” he said.

He nodded. “Did you at least have an audience when you socked him in the face?” he asked.

He nodded. “Yep, the entire pub.”

“I bet there’s people out there he’s only harassing you for being gay because he closeted or some shit.”

“And that I’m an awful person for getting mad that he called me a slur. How awful of me.”

They laughed, smiling at each other. His grey eyes were bright, looking into his brown. 

He wanted to kiss him and he wanted to do it so bad. But he knew he shouldn’t. 

Still, it was a nice moment between them. He almost reached out to hold his hand but two voices cut in.

“Marcus! There you are!”

Two people walked towards them. A woman with black hair sleeked down straight and a man with the exact same piercing grey eyes as Marcus. 

He didn’t need to be told they were his parents. 

Marcus turned to them, his face had gone pale. He could see his dread. He really didn’t want to deal with them and Oliver wanted to pull him away from them so they could go back to laughing together. He wanted to see Marcus happy. 

“So Marcus,” his mother continued not even looking at Oliver. “Miss Greengrass is here.”

He frowned. “Mum–”

“Mr and Mrs Greengrass are happy to overlook your little outburst from dinner.”

He frowned. “So Daphne literally gets no say?”

His dad quickly shook his head. “No, you court her and she decides. Her mother and father simple approve of you and–”

“I actually was meant to introduce you to my boyfriend,” he gestured towards him before taking his hand, intertwining their fingers together. It was such a small, intimate thing. Such a couple thing. He knew the purpose of it but it still made butterflies fill his stomach. “Mum, dad, this is Oliver. Oliver, these are my parents Ursurla and Richar–”

Richard cut him off. “You really brought a man with you, Marcus?” He looked annoyed. Like this was an inconvenience to him. 

“I brought my boyfriend, yes,” he nodded, putting emphasis on ‘boyfriend’. Like that would be the only way for them to understand. 

Richard eyed him. “Are you at least a pure blood?” he asked. 

Oliver gapped at him before answering. “Yeah,” he said, bitterness finding its way into his tone. 

“Would that even make a difference?” Marcus asked, a touch of anger in his tone. 

Ursula pressed her lips together. He wondered how green-brown eyes could be so cold. “Marcus, we’re just making sure.”

“Sure you’re not worried about your friends seeing me with a man?”

They didn’t respond but Oliver could feel their answer in the air. 

“Of course,” Marcus muttered. “Because the only think you two care about is image. That’s why you disowned Amy–”

“We’re just looking out what’s best for the family, Marcus,” Richard said somehow with a combination of calmness and fury. 

“And isn’t the best what makes us happy?” He was angry but his voice broke a little. Oliver felt a pang in his stomach. He could feel him squeezing his hand in anger and all he could do was try to reassure him by squeezing him back. “Marry John made Amy happy. Being gay, being with a man, makes me happy. Why don’t you understand that?”

Oliver wasn’t sure if Marcus was going to become furious or cry. He wanted to drag him out of here. He wanted to comfort him. He wanted to figure out how to stop him from hurting. 

“Look, this is getting ridiculous Marcus,” Richard said. “This is just a phase you’re going through and you might as well marry Daphne while you still have the chance.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped. There were so many variations of how homophobic parents could be. Sometimes it was cut and dry where the parents wanted nothing to do with their child anymore. But he didn’t expect this. The dismissing and the insistence on him marrying a woman. 

He looked at Marcus. He was gaping at them, completely speechless. He was still holding his hand but not as tight. It felt loose actually. He squeezed his hand, hoping it would offer some sort of comfort. 

It seemed to snap him out of it. He glared at them and took a deep breath. “That’s not going to happy. It won’t ever happen, don’t even get your hopes up.”

Before they could cut anymore words in, Chris seemed to have realised what was happening and stepped to Marcus’s other side. 

“Mum, dad, please don’t be like this,” he said giving them a pleading look. 

“Christopher,” Richard said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Yeah, yeah, because I have a pure blood girlfriend and all that shit. He’s my brother, and you’re honestly being awful to him for something he can’t even help.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ursula said. “Being born into this family means there’s expectations. He’s not meeting them, you are.”

“I’m not Chris!” Marcus exasperated, not seeming to care about how loud he was. “I’m not going to change to make you happy. It’s not going to go away. It’s not going to change. I’m gay, alright? I’m gay.” His tone raised with each word. The ballroom was already pretty big but Oliver was sure half of the people had heard him. Maybe that was Marcus’s goal. 

“Fuck this shit,” he huffed. “I’m leaving.”

Pulled on his hand, he stormed off. Oliver almost tripped trying to keep up with him. He looked back at Richard and Ursula, who seemed surprised by his reaction. Chris was watching them with a sympathetic look on his face. 

He frowned and looked back at Marcus. He was clearly furious, like he was ready to break something. When he took out his wand, most likely to Disapparate, he quickly spoke. “I’ll drive,” he said, putting his free hand over his. Marcus didn’t look at him, just nodded his entire face red in anger. Oliver took out his wand and put his arm over around his waist. Within seconds, they were back in Marcus’s flat. 

He stepped away from him. He expected Marcus to break something, to yell and to scream. To start throwing angry spells around to get his anger out. But no, that’s not what happened. 

His legs shook under him and that was when Oliver saw the tears in his eyes. He fell under his knees and let out a sob. His lip was quivering and tears streamed down his face. 

For a moment, Oliver could only watch. The chocked sobs weren’t what he’d expected. Not from Marcus. Somehow he’d never thought Marcus could cry and maybe that was foolish of him. 

When he snapped out of his initial surprise he dropped to his knees to be at his level. “Hey?” he said softly and put his hand over his. “Want me to take you to your bed?”

Marcus nodded without looking back at him. “Yeah,” he said. “And can you stay?”

“Yeah,” he said and nodded.

He pulled him up by his hand and walked him to his room, keeping an arm around his waist. He set him on his bed. Marcus asked him to help him out of his dressrobes and he did. Marcus put himself under the covers curling up into the pillow. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

Marcus looked up at him finally, his eyes bloodshot. “You can come in here if you’d like.”

He did like. He really wanted to. And he really didn’t want to leave Marcus alone in this state. 

He took of his own dressrobes and got into the bed. Marcus telling him he didn’t want them to cuddle weeks ago came to mind. 

But as if he knew he would be afraid of this, Marcus spoke. “We can cuddle if you’re comfortable with that.”

“I am,” he said. “Will that make you the little spoon?” 

He was trying to cheer him up with his humour and it seemed to work because he got a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

He shuffled closer to him, hooked his leg between his and wrapped his arms around him. Marcus wrapped his own over them. 

They fell asleep like that, and Oliver never felt more at home.


	14. Chapter 14

When Marcus woke up that morning, the last thing he’d expected was a body curled up behind him. 

He almost panicked, but then the horrors of the night before came to his mind.

Fuck, he actually cried in front of Oliver. He let himself become vulnerable and allowed him in his bed to cuddle. That wasn’t what two people who were just shagging did. It was a borderline boyfriend thing. 

He was not a relationship person. Because why would anyone stay around with the way his parents treated him? Why would anyone love him to begin with? He always ended things before someone could get a too tight of a hold on him and smash him to the ground. 

That’s why he would always run but Oliver seemed to have caught up anyway. 

His arms were still around him, loosened from his sleep. His face was nestled in the spot between his shoulder blades, peaceful breathing coming from him. Their legs were tangled together and Marcus’s own arms were lazily over Oliver’s. 

He should probably get up, probably make some breakfast or go see Amy but the position was far too comfortable to leave. 

Plus, he didn’t want to wake Oliver up. Even unable to see him, he knew he was peacefully asleep. He didn’t want to disturb his peace, it was Christmas after all and neither of them had anything to do that morning. 

He let time pass as they lay, putting his own hands back over Oliver’s, allowing his body to relax. 

The silence made his mind remember the night before all too clearly. He expected his parents to disapprove but not be so vicious. To tell him in front of his presumed boyfriend he was going through a phase. That the relationship they thought he had with Oliver wasn’t anything real, or valuable, or important. If even in that case they’d still dismiss him he was starting to see there was no point anymore. They were always going to disapprove whether he liked it or not. Their own thoughts and opinions on his life and how he should live it outweighed how he felt. 

Most would say he should just begin to accept it and cut them out of his life as best he could. But he didn’t want that. He saw how much it had hurt Amy. He didn’t want them out of his life, he was too chained to them to be easily cut away without their say. So he wished they would accept it. Not tolerate it, accept him and accept him. He didn’t want to end up as one of those guys whose parents completely abandoned him for being gay. He could always see the sense of hurt in the guys who told him what their parents had done to them. He didn’t want his life to go there. He wanted to still be in contact with his parents and they would love him and not push girl after girl his way. To understand his heart couldn’t do that, that his brain didn’t understand it. It wasn’t who he was. 

Like right now, cuddling with a man would make more sense to him than marrying a woman ever would. 

Fuck, he wasn’t actually catching feelings for Oliver, was he? That was terrifying, what they had was good. Simply sleeping together was good.

But he stayed after his parents’ outburst. He put in the effort to comfort him. He had no obligation to do that but he still did. 

He kind of really appreciated that. 

A lot.

…

Every New Year’s Eve, the bar Marcus would always go to held a party of sorts. It was at least far busier than usual.

He was thinking about asking Oliver to go with him. Not as a date, just two people going together. Nothing serious. Just two people enjoying each other’s company at the bar. That’s all. 

He did feel a little bit of a rush when he sent him an owl to ask him if he was interested. But that was just nerves from them snuggling after Christmas Eve. Oliver didn’t end up staying or anything, saying he needed to get ready to see his sister. Marcus just assumed he couldn’t get away from him fast enough. There was no reason for him to stay after all and he was fine without him. He ended up spending the night alone instead of going to Amy’s uninvited. She sent an owl that afternoon telling him not to as she was spending the night with her in laws. It was a little lonely but whatever. Not like anyone wanted to spend the day with him anyway. 

Oliver did end up sending an owl back, saying he would go with him. 

That’s how they ended up standing outside the bar together. They hadn’t exchanged any words and all intimate gestures they’d shared on Christmas eve were gone. He hadn’t expected them. The night at his parents’ was nothing but a façade for his own benefit. Not a real date. It was a favour to him. Oliver probably thought he was going to promise sexual favours in return if he hadn’t broken down. 

Still, he was thinking about holding his hand. He was terrified Oliver would take one look at another guy in there and leave his side. He had every right to do that, he wasn’t his boyfriend after all. The worst way that night could end was Oliver deciding he didn’t want to sleep together anymore because he realised he could get any gorgeous guy he wanted with the snap of his fingers and his charming smile. He’d realise his can do far better than his broken nose and crooked teeth. 

When they entered the bar they go straight to the counter. 

“Any idea what you want to drink?” Marcus asked, smiling at him.

He shrugged. “Not yet,” he said. “I think I need to piss first.”

He nodded. “Back there,” he pointed. 

“Save me seat,” He smiled at him before hopping off his barstool and walking to the bathroom. He did his best not to watch, especially to not at least see if he’d gotten anyones attention.

“Well if it isn’t my favourite regular,” came a familiar voice. 

He smiled as he turned to face his regular bartender. He felt a little bad he’d never actually learnt his name, he was a really cool guy and a good one to talk to at that. He’d been working here since before he even started coming around to the bar. 

“Hey, mate,” he smiled. “Miss me?”

“Desperately,” he said. “Was that cute one keeping you busy?”

His cheeks tinted a little. “I guess,” he said. “No guy here has measured up I guess,” he shrugged. 

That’s the most honest aloud he’d been about his relationship with Oliver, and the situation that came with it. No man had measured up to him in looks but over time, no man had measured up to how much he liked Oliver and enjoyed his company. He didn’t want to get to know any other guy, he had Oliver.

Fuck.

“Ah, so you finally snagged a boyfriend?” he asked, smiling at him.

He was going to shake his head but he stopped himself. He suddenly realised he wasn’t sure. They’d agreed that they weren’t in any sort of committed relationship. But here he was, only thinking about Oliver. He hadn’t even taken a glance at the guys here tonight, to see if there were any worth an attempt to flirt with. 

He had come here with Oliver after all. 

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“Clearly,” he replied. “I haven’t even seen you sleep with a guy twice.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” he said.

He frowned. “Well, there goes my theory you had your heart broken and resorted to sleeping around. Do you like him?”

He bit his lip. That question had been plaguing him for some time now. Did he or didn’t he? How the fuck was he supposed to know? All his childhood crushes had been on straight guys, and Oliver wasn’t that. He didn’t have a crush on him at all when they were kids. All they had was a weird understanding of each other they refused to acknowledge because they were meant to not like each other. 

He still wondered what would’ve happened if they were in the same house. He would’ve never been a Gryffindor but Oliver had potential Slytherin. He was ambitious and had clever plays. He cared about winning and glory.

He almost laughed at the sort of horror that would be on his face if he’d suggested that to him. He was too noble and courageous to be a Slytherin anyway. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “Our history is a little complicated.”

He snorted. “You didn’t have a teenage fling or anything?”

He shook his head. “No, childish sport rivalry.”

He laughed, finding that funny for what ever reason. “Look, my advice? If you like him, go for it, alright?”

“It’s not just that,” Marcus said. “My parents, they aren’t exactly supportive.”

He gave him an empathetic look. “Yeah, that’s unfortunately most people here reality,” he said. “Parents can suck sometimes.”

He nodded. He knew it was similar for many. Maybe not throwing heiresses at them but wanting them to settle down and get married, to have kids and not live what what for whatever reasons deemed a taboo life. He wished he could be easier, that was the only thing he wanted. He’d even take parents like Oliver, who at least tolerated it and understood he wouldn’t change. That he couldn’t change. That would be better than the harsh dismissal he got. That words that felt like a stab in the stomach each time. The attitude that had made him build up walls and be far harsher of a person than he ever wanted to be. He wished he could’ve been the happy, easy going type. The attitude Oliver presented but it was hard when he felt empty inside. 

There was a time in his life he hated that he was gay. He knew from the start his parents wouldn’t be happy about it. He didn’t fool himself into thinking they’d welcome it graciously and support him bringing a man home. He expected the reaction he got when he came out. He expected the one he got when he brought Oliver to the ball. He knew it all would happen, he just had a small bit of hope it wouldn’t. 

Sure, his brother and sisters loved and supported him but it sometimes wasn’t enough. He’d been raised to think family was important, for no other reason than that they were your family. He wasn’t sure if he believed the notion anymore. He never understood people who would say parents should be thanked for providing for their children. As if they didn’t have to. As if children owed their parents something for being born. It made him think of the guys he’d met who were kicked out of home for being gay and not choosing to hide it. Some even left on their own accord, knowing it would be best to leave and for their parents to never know. That was a concept he could barely wrap his head around, and in the moment didn’t care to. 

He couldn’t walk out on them. Defying them was hard enough. But he saw what it had done to Amy and it made it that much harder. Her name was essentially forbidden in Flint Manor. It was as if she was dead, and maybe she was in the eyes on his parents. 

He didn’t want that. For all he knew, if he was cut off his parents could convince Gringotts to fire him. They were the only reason he had the job, and losing his job and access to the family’s vault was less than ideal. 

“That doesn’t really help me with Oliver,” he muttered. 

He sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, only you two can figure out what to do,” he said. “Kiss him at midnight or something, if you’re not great with words. That old saying and all, ‘actions speak louder than words’.”

He frowned. He wasn’t too familiar with muggle traditions but he’d heard of the kissing at midnight. They’d never kissed where it was strictly for sex. Sweet pecks, or more, where the intentions were more emotionally intimate hadn’t happened once. He’d thought about it on and off but he’d never gone through with it. 

The suggestion of doing it made him realise just how much he wanted to. To cup his face in his hands and kiss him, for it to lead to smiles and not sex for once. He enjoyed having sex with him and kissing him during sex was great but there was a certain appeal to kissing him where the intentions weren’t shagging. 

That wouldn’t mean they were boyfriends or anything like that. Despite the feelings he was starting to get, he could easily simply have what they had right now. That worked right now. 

Although, he did get a weird bubbling in his stomach when he introduced Oliver as his boyfriend to Jules and Chris. Juliet looked positively delighted and when he met up with Chris only a few days before he’d expressed he hadn’t seen him that happy in a while. 

That meant nothing. If it came up, he’d just say they had broken up. Explaining it was because of what had happened with his parents was too much for him. That was believable. Chris had even jokes that he was surprised Nadia hadn’t left him after the ordeal with the Greengrass’s. Marcus was a little surprised himself, and that was what made him like Nadia even more. If she could still move in with him and potentially marry him knowing the troubles, he was ready to be the best man. He just hoped none of their kids ended up queer, a gay son and a queer grandchild would be far too much for his parents, and they’d show it when the kid told them. 

“He’s coming back right now anyway,” the bartender’s voice cut in. 

Marcus glanced in the direction he had looked and saw Oliver walking back. He also heard the light thunk of glass bottles hitting the table. 

“On me,” he whispered and winked, before going off to another customer. 

He really had to learn his name.

“Cool, you got our drinks,” Oliver said smiling at him. How did he still look so gorgeous in fluorescent light?

He blinked himself out of it and smiled at him. “What are you talking about? These are both for me.” 

He fake pouted. “Can’t spare one?”

He sighed and smiled. “Okay, for you I guess.”

After he took his drink they got up to settle at a tabled. They were able to snag a small one near the back. Marcus saw a couple of familiar faces, but he didn’t make any effort to go and talk to them. He was happy to give Oliver his full attention. 

“So, how do muggle new year’s even work?” he asked when they sat down. “What do they do?”

He shrugged. “Fireworks, counting down from ten. Getting pissed too.”

He smiled. “Well, good thing we have alcohol.”

He nodded. “I mean, there’s also dancing outside,” he said a nodded to the back door that lead to a makeshift dance floor. He was a terrible dancer so he usually avoided it. But for all he knew Oliver loved dancing and would be interested.

“Oh cool,” he said. “I flail more than dance but do you want to check it out when we’re done with our beers?”

He was going to say no. Oliver could go on his own and find a cute guy to dance with, maybe one to go home with. He wanted to say he didn’t and couldn’t dance. 

But Oliver had that cute grin on his that said he was eager to go out with him. To have fun with him. 

So he nodded. “Alright, sounds fun.”

His stomach when Oliver’s eyes lit up when he said that. 

They finished their drinks and went outside. There were space heaters out to warm the space up in the cold thankfully. He recognised the popular muggle song that was playing but wasn’t sure of the name. 

He glanced around the space, seeing people dancing. Some on their own, some with a partner or in a group. There would be space for them to dance but it would be tight. If they danced together at all.

He almost brought that up to Oliver but he ended up grabbing his hand and pulling him to the dance floor. He let him, allowing himself to laugh as they started to dance. 

He tried to imagine the sight to outsiders. Two burly men dancing together in a tight space, swinging their arms because there wasn’t much room to do anything else. 

But these were people who didn’t care about that. All they cared about was being themselves and having fun. 

Oliver used his slight shortness compared to him – even though he was barely that much shorter compared to him, and was already pretty tall – to spin himself under Marcus arm. He laughed and started to spin him himself. They did trip a few times or step on the others toes, proving their inexperience with dancing but it was fun. He’d never bothered to dance with guys in the past, the dance floor had always been here but he’d never bothered with it. Mostly out of fear of embarrassing himself but he forgot about that with Oliver. He didn’t care if he made a fool out of himself because Oliver didn’t care. 

Everything with him felt perfect. He was perfect, absolutely perfect. 

They ended up dancing for hours with a few breaks in between. But at a point the music stopped and everyone’s attention turned to the countdown. Oliver looked confused for a moment, glancing around. 

He took that as an opportunity to pull him to the side, a little bit away from everyone else but still close enough to hear the count down. Oliver furrowed his brows at him, clearly confused of what he was going to do. 

Marcus could feel his heart racing in his ears as he held him but his biceps. He listened to the chants as they counted down.

Five

He shuffled a little closer to him. 

Four

He pushed Oliver’s hair out of his face.

Three

Oliver’s eyes widened in confusion.

Two

Oliver smiled and put his hands on his hips. 

One.

He bent down the short distance.

Happy new year

His lips went over Oliver’s and drew him closer, Oliver’s own hand curling behind his back and resting on the space between his shoulder blades. 

And they kissed. They kissed and they kissed and they kissed. 

It did feel different, Marcus noticed. The absence of the intent of sex somehow made this more intimate. More sweet. Like a first kiss you share with someone. Like his real first kiss at his parents Christmas ball, when he was shy and confused and their teeth awkwardly clanked as they tried to avoid any adults seeing them. 

It was probably the best kiss he’d ever had.

The pulled away after sometime. It wasn’t a breathless kiss, because they didn’t snog to the point they couldn’t breath. It was gentle, and had left both of them blushing instead. Like they were teenagers again. 

“What was that for?” Oliver asked, gaping at him for a moment, before trying to hide with by licking his top lip. 

He shrugged. “Muggle thing,” he said.

“Kissing at midnight?” He nodded. “Muggles are weird.”

He laughed, which made Oliver laugh too. He saw him glanced at his lips and he drew him in for another kiss, making Marcus smile before their lips met.

They did go home together. Not to have sex but to sleep together, cuddled under the sheets. It was Oliver’s flat this time. Marcus was the big spoon that night, and he wasn’t a sobbing mess that time. 

It was a comfortable was to drift off. Pure bliss, far happier than he ever remembered being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft Marcus is the best Marcus.
> 
> Also, irrelevant but this was the first chapter I wrote on Scriviner so that was cool.


	15. Chapter 15

The screams in his ears were deafening. He was carrying a body in his arms and it was like he was carrying bricks. He had to get the body to the healers before they died in his arms. 

He was running as fast as he could. He knew that he had to get the body to the great hall soon or the person will die and it will be his fault. Another innocent life would be gone because of him.

He wished he had his broom to get there faster. He was still running, the great hall in sight. But it felt like the more he ran the farther away it got. He was starting to panic even more. He could feel the body getting heavier and heavier in his arms. Sweat was dripping down his face as he ran, he just wanted to get the body to the great hall inside. 

When he thought he had finally made it, the entrance collapsed in front of him, and he tripped forward, the body disappearing in the structure…

Oliver woke up in a pool of his own sweat and his name being called.

“Oliver, fuck, what’s wrong?”

That was Marcus’s voice. He knew that. He gripped his sheets under him, and felt a hand run through his hair.

“Oliver? What’s wrong, what’s happening?”

He reached out to touch Marcus, trying to bring himself back to reality. He was able to get a hang of his breathing before calming down. 

He was in his room and Marcus was there. He wasn’t at war, it wasn’t 1998. It was 2000– no, it was 2001. He was just at a new years party with Marcus. And he’d kissed him. 

Marcus had kissed him, and it wasn’t for sex that time. It was the kind of kiss you would give a boyfriend. 

He decided not to focus on that because shit, he almost had an anxiety attack while Marcus was in his bed.

He also realised he was still shaking and Marcus had drawn him into his arms.

“Hey, what happened? What’s wrong?” he whispered, and he was rocking him gently. It was the comfort he needed. 

“Nightmare,” he was able to get out.

“Just a nightmare?” 

He swallowed. He felt tears prickle his eyes. “It was that war.” His voice caught in his throat, his voice coming out in a squeak. 

Marcus was silent. Oliver didn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen him at the Battle of Hogwarts. But he didn’t expect him to be running with Death Eaters, he hadn’t even felt the need to check for a dark mark on his arm. But he knew the Flint family had a troubling history with muggles. His sister marrying a muggle was some proof his siblings didn’t hold them at least. And Marcus sleeping with muggle men was a clue he didn’t either.

He didn’t fight the war though. So he wouldn’t completely understand what he was going through. 

But maybe that made him the perfect person to vent to.

“I’ve had nightmares ever since it ended,” he said. He was still in his arms and Marcus started to rub his back. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Marcus said, nuzzling into his into his hair. 

“No, I want to.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Alright, only if you want.”

He took a deep breath and sat up so he could look at him, but stayed close enough so he could hold him. 

“The nightmares are bad,” he said. “It’s just images of the war and of Hogwarts in ruins. A lot of green lights and death. And,” he swallowed. “People I wasn’t able to help.”

He stroked his arm, nodding in understanding. “So, you feel guilty that you couldn’t help those people?”

He nodded. “To the point that those dreams give me anxiety attacks.”

His eyes widened a little but he nodded to let him know he was listening. “Have they gotten better since the war?”

“I had a lot right after the war. Every night I’d have a nightmare. My ex was always there to get me out of them though.” 

“Did you had any after you broke up?”

He nodded. “One. Ended up in a bad anxiety attack to the point I vomited.”

“But you got yourself out of it?”

“Yeah.”

“At least there’s that. You looked, well, I don’t know how to explain it but from what it looked like, it must’ve been hard to get out of it on your own. I had no idea what to do.”

He put his hand on his bicep. “You tried at least, and I really do appreciate that. When I first broke up with him I was terrified what would happen if I had one alone. So I’m happy you were here this time.”

“Still, it’s great you got out of it on your own, you should be proud of yourself because I know I am.”

He felt his stomach flutter at that. Marcus telling him he was proud of him was kind of something he really needed to hear. To know that Marcus didn’t see him as weak. 

Sometimes his masculinity was something he struggled with. Whenever his masculinity was questioned because of his sexuality it felt like they were putting the two up to battle, rather than two pieces of him that could coexist. Even though people like Roberts seemed convinced they couldn’t. But he did find himself battling with the ideas that he was weaker for it.

It didn’t compare to how much he struggled with it when it came to his nightmares. For the past two and a half years he’d felt weak for the nightmares. He felt even weaker for feeling like he needed someone there to coax him out to it. After all, with no one there he vomited all over his sheets, even though he knew he could survive them. But in the moment, he always forgot he could. All his mind could think about was feeling like he was in some sort of danger. It made him feel weak and he hated that feeling. He wanted to shove it away but he couldn’t. He’d been told his entire life that being strong, physically and emotionally, was as big of a part as being a man as, well, being attracted to women. 

He didn’t know how to cope with that a lot of the time. He looked back at his Hogwarts days and when he joined the quidditch team. When his feelings for Charlie came. He hadn’t recognised it as a crush at the time but maybe a piece of him saw it and thought it was wrong, leading him to slightly overcompensate his masculinity through quidditch. When he became captain, he was given a leadership role. A role that society told him was fit for men. When he started to understand his sexuality more, he had to learn he could still have his masculinity while being gay. After the war and his nightmares started, that seemed to go away. He felt even weaker, like he was useless. What made it worse was how scared he was to leave Shane. Between comforting him after nightmares, he wasn’t that great of a guy to him. He took him for granted most of the time and slowly stopped coming to games or even socialising with his teammates. Yet at the same time wanted Oliver to come to every event the Ministry was holding, even if it bored him to tears or he had to go to bed early to be rested enough for practice. 

“If I’m being honest, Shane being there to get me out of them was the only reason I stayed with him.”

He’d never admitted that aloud. He’d convinced himself for so long there was some goodness in him, that gave him a reason to stay. Something that wasn’t that he’d thought he still loved him, or that he was his first everything. Something that wasn’t to help him out of his nightmares. Something that especially wasn’t that they were getting married. Those weren’t good reasons. He’d convinced himself they were but looking back, they weren’t. They were actually terrible reasons. 

“Fuck, really?” Marcus frowned and he nodded.

“He was kind of horrible. He’d mock me playing quidditch, tell me I should get a real job at the Ministry and all that kind of shit. He used to always come to my games but then he slowly stopped coming at all. But I of course had to go to all those Ministry gala’s.”

“He’d mock you?” Marcus asked, hesitation in his voice. His brows raising in surprise.

He nodded. “Mock, degrade, just be generally horrible.”

He started at him and Oliver was starting to get worried, he seemed to be so concerned. “What?”

He swallowed. “I really don’t want to overstep my boundaries, but…” he trailed off.

He frowned. “What, really. You can ask.”

“He sounds, kind of emotionally abusive.”

He blinked at him. He reflected on his words and the kind of things Shane would say to him. How he’d spend most of the time putting him down but would flip around within a second. Or tell him was being irrational when he made him upset. 

It sure as hell sounded like abuse but they would mean he was abused, and that was something difficult to admit to himself. 

“Oliver?” he asked and put his hand over his.

Tears prickled in his eyes. “He wasn’t always like that.”

He nodded. “I believe you,” he said and squeezed his hand. 

“He really wasn’t always like that,” he repeated as tears started to roll down his face.

He felt Marcus’s thumb brush across his cheek. “Hey, don’t waste tears on that wanker,” he said, and gave him a smile, crooked teeth and all. 

That made him smile. “I know, I think I need to get it out though.”

“But you’re smile at least.”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Although, did I mention I like your smile?”

He laughed. “Liar.”

Instead of giving a teasing comment back, he cupped his face in his hands and drew their lips together, kissing him gently. He felt him smile against his lips, kissing him back. 

With Shane, at best in the ends of their relationship the best he could hope for was a feeling of content. But kissing Marcus was sweet. The rush of hormones that was there when they started what they were doing wasn’t there as much. It had been replaced with this comfortable feeling. Where being with Marcus was natural. 

It was at this point he needed to remind himself they weren’t even a couple and he kind of hated himself for it. Because the entire point of this arrangement was to not be in a relationship. Marcus had said he didn’t like them and he really shouldn’t fool himself into thinking that would change.

But he knew the bubbling feeling in his stomach refused to believe that. That his heart had decided to go a different route, that he actually did have feelings for Marcus. Feelings he didn’t expect would rise in him but here they were, translated into this kiss in a language Marcus might not understand. 

He pulled away from his lips and smiled. He smiled back at him. “Great smile,” he said and kissed his nose. Marcus seemed surprised at the action. “Thanks for comforting me and all.”

He blinked and nodded. “No big deal, you needed it.”

He nodded. “Let’s go back to sleep, I’m exhausted.”

He grinned. “Sounds great,” he said and when they lay back down, he pulled him into his arms. 

“Sorry for waking you up,” he mumbled into his chest. He was thankful Marcus had comforted him without problem. The first time it had happened and Shane didn’t know what to do, there had almost been these undertones of resentment for waking him up. Maybe that was why he’d started to degrade him even more, he’d become this burden to him.

But Marcus didn’t have any of these undertones. He just gave him a squeeze and kissed the top of his head. “It’s no problem at all, Ollie.”

He fell asleep with his stomach fluttering at the nickname. 

…

Oliver let himself into Amelia’s without knocking first. It was around noon so it hopefully wouldn’t bother her too much to show up uninvited 

When he walked inside, he saw Amelia and Jacob in front of the television. They’d have nothing to do that work since it was a public holiday, so he’d expected them to be lazing around that Monday rather than going to work. 

“Olls?” Amelia said and glanced at him. 

“Hey, sis,” he said. 

Jacob glanced at him too. “Oh, hey Oliver. How was your New Year’s? You don’t seem hung over or anything.”

He shrugged. “I had one drink last night, no big deal,” he turned his attention to Amelia. “Actually, sis, can I pull you into the other room for a moment?”

She looked at him curiously. “Uh, yeah alright.”

She stood up and he followed her to the kitchen, and she closed the door behind them, probably to keep Jacob from hearing them. He hoped she didn’t assume it was something serious. 

“So, what’s up?” she asked, frowning at him.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, so, y’know that guy I met up with at the bar a few weeks ago? The one I was sort of, kind of dating?”

She nodded. “The Slytherin you’d always complain about, I remember.”

“Well, we went to the bar together last night. And I think it was a date but I also think it wasn’t a date? It felt like it was but I knew it wasn’t and–” 

“Slow down,”she said, holding her hands up to halt him. “So, you’re getting mixed signals?” 

He nodded. “Really mixed.”

“Start from the beginning. You were sort of kind of but not really dating, I got that.”

“We weren’t – not – dating at all. We were just shagging.”

“Gross, thanks Olls, didn’t need to know that.”

“But that’s all it was,” he explained.

She cocked her head to the side. “Alright, but that seems pretty straight forward.”

If he wasn’t stressing out, he would’ve made the joke ‘there’s nothing straight about it.’ “It was fine, mostly I guess, until he took me to his parents Christmas Ball. They’re like, these really prestigious pure-bloods.” 

“What was his last name again?”

“Flint.”

“As in Amy and Chris Flint? I remember them in my Hogwarts days. I was in the same year as Amy. Sweet for a Slytherin.” 

He nodded, remembering learning their names that night. “Yep, them.”

“Ah, stuffy pure bloods. They’re descendants of Josephina Flint. That anti-muggle Minister that got elected twice.” 

He nodded. He was one of the few who actually enjoyed History of Magic. It was even a N.E.W.T subject he got an E in. “I know,” he said. “And trust me, his parents really are stuff pure bloods. They cut out Amy because she married a muggle.”

Her eyes widened, quickly glancing at the door. “Well, fucking shitty parents,” she said. 

He nodded. “Yeah well, anyway, the ball.”

She nodded. “Right, he took you? As a date?” 

“His parents are the stuffy pure blood sort that pushes girls on him constantly.”

“To marry?” he nodded. “Even though he’s gay?”

“Yep, and they know full well he is. But they ignore it. So he took me that night to pretend to me his boyfriend, he told his brother and little sister I was his boyfriend too. Then things with his parents didn’t go over well and he asked me to stay and cuddle with him. We’d never cuddled before that.”

“Okay, yeah, that would be confusing,” she agreed. “Anything else?”

“Last night, he kissed me at midnight.”

She blinked at him. “And that’s weird because?”

“We’ve never kissed just because,” he said. “And when we got back to my flat we just cuddled.”

“Alright, yeah I get it,” she nodded. “That would be confusing. Did anything else happen?”

“I had a nightmare and he comforted me, but that’s nothing big. Just a descent thing to do. But we kissed again and cuddled afterwards. And he called me ‘Ollie’.”

“I thought you hated being called Ollie? You would always get mad when I called you it.”

“Exactly! But I’m okay with him calling me it, I don’t know why.”

“Olls, I think you’ve got it bad.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t be falling for him. That was their damn agreement. 

But so was cuddling and kissing for no reason. Marcus wouldn’t even cuddle him after they had sex. But he’d cuddled him those times. Hell, he’d asked him to cuddle him the first time. At first he thought it was because of how devastated he was by his parents’ reaction to them but when the woke up that next morning, he could tell Marcus was awake by the way he put his hand over his. 

That man was confusing as hell, that was what he definitely knew for sure.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think I do really like him. But I don’t know how to bring it up, he told me he doesn’t like relationships.”

“Well, maybe talk to him about it? Or hint that you want a relationship? It’s better than nothing?”

“How the hell am I supposed to hint?” he asked. 

She rolled her eyes. “Cuddling is a good place to start. Or use your words. I swear, men are so incapable of using their words that dating each other must be twice as worse than most.”

He snorted. He was going to deny it but he was pretty terrible as communicating his feelings properly. If he weren’t they probably would’ve sorted this out by now. 

“You have a game coming up, right?” she asked. He nodded. “So, invite him. He can have my ticket.”

“Are you sure?” he frowned. 

She nodded. “It’ll give you a good excuse to invite him, I can get it now.”

He stared at her for a moment then smiled. “Sure, that’s sounds great.”

…

He smiled when he heard the usual crack in his lounge room. 

“Just on time,” he smiled as Marcus stepped forward to him. 

“Of course,” he smiled and grinned at him. He could already see a hint of lust in his eyes as he stepped forward.

“Oh, before I forget,” he said when he leaned down to kiss him. “I have a game soon, and I have an extra ticket for friends and family. Want it?”

He raised a brow at him. “Who’re you playing? Because if it’s Montrose, I can’t support you.”

“Harpies,” he answered. 

“‘Right, I’m in.” He then ducked his head to his neck and gave it a kiss. “Where were we?” 

He laughed at the tickling sensation and pulled his head up to kiss him, letting out a small hum. “C’mere,” he mumbled and pulled him to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh, wasn't planning to have a tangent of toxic masculinity but there you go. This fic is getting far more serious than I planned. 
> 
> Also, these boys are losers and I love them. 
> 
> We're close to the end so I should be done by the end of this month. If I can, maybe even by next Sunday.


	16. Chapter 16

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to a quidditch game.

He kept up with it thorough Quidditch Weekly, of course. But the last time he’d gone to an actual game was the 1994 World Cup. When he started working at Gringotts, he realised how much he would’ve loved to play professionally. He knew nowadays he’d never make the reserves, coaches would favour eighteen year olds, given him very little chance. Twenty-five year olds were never a high priority. 

Supporting Oliver was a great reason to go. He hadn’t found himself envious of his success. He’d always assumed he would make the big leagues easy enough. He was always a great Keeper. Back in the quidditch days he would never have admitted so. He had his innate talent, and he made quidditch far more fun with all the effort he put into plays. Ravenclaw wasn’t too hard and even with Diggory, Hufflepuff was easy. Oliver gave him a real challenge and he’d always liked that. 

He knew going to the game would mean he’d meet Oliver’s friends though which he tried to not think about too much. He’d told him that before hand, as well that his parents wouldn’t be there. 

Just his friends. Two of the old Chasers. He vaguely remembered the trio, they were pretty good competition. He did have some memories of kicking them so he hoped that was left behind them. 

Marcus wasn’t sure what he’d told them their relationship was. It didn’t help that even he wasn’t sure at this point. He’d been thinking about it a lot and he knew what they were verbally. The emotional part was getting in the way. 

He’d been thinking about it a lot. Specifically, he’d been thinking about Oliver a lot. He’d never been like this. In the past he could detach emotions from sex easily. Maybe it was because he didn’t have any past emotions for them. He could make himself not care about their personal lives. 

That wasn’t the case with Oliver. He’d allowed himself to get close to him, and he was kicking himself for it. He hadn’t had feelings for another guy in years. This especially was the only time that not only was the guy actually queer, but he had him in some way. 

Even though it was sex. That was the entire goddamn point of their non-relationship. He’d told him he didn’t like relationships after all, that was telling him he shouldn’t expect any future with him. 

Yet here he was with confused and contradicting feelings. He wanted to keep things on sex. But all the emotional stuff that came in was hard to avoid. Their weird conversation after he asked him to go to his parents Christmas ball was probably when it really started. Then he saw how shit his parents were and he cried in front of him and they cuddled. That was something he could rarely bring himself to do in front of his own siblings. Crying itself was hard enough. If he hadn’t stayed and comforted him he’d probably feel humiliated. It was Oliver though and he was sweet, and understand, and sincere.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. 

The ticket he had given him were good seats. It gave a good view of the pitch, and he could already see two girls there. That must’ve been his old teammates. Oliver had told him they were a couple too, so the games would probably be partially third wheeling. 

He looks at the number on his ticket and realises he’d be sitting right next to them as well. He held back a sigh and walked to them. Aside from being terribly asocial, he hated small talk. What even was there to talk about? Would they drill him with questions, asking him what he and Oliver were? Oliver could’ve told them anything. He wasn’t sure how’d he even answer them. 

Maybe they wouldn’t ask him anything about him and Oliver. Maybe Oliver wouldn’t come up at all. 

No, he wouldn’t fool himself into that. They knew what their relationship was like back in Hogwarts. If Oliver hadn’t told them anything, they’d want to know why exactly they were even in contact now. Their rivalry was infamous, and they’d seen how intense they were on and off the pitch. 

Although, when he did look back at their attitudes and their intense stares at one another when they would shake hands, it made him wonder just how much tension they had that they refused to acknowledge because of their rivalry. 

He was starting to realise that more, he was remembering how each handshakes before a game left his hand sore and his stomach in knots. He’d told himself that just because Oliver was a guy, it didn’t mean he had feelings for him. He didn’t, but he still found him attractive. Kissing the hell out of him maybe crossed his mind a few times but he had to remind himself they couldn’t even be friends when they were each other’s biggest rivals. Even if they did want to do something, they’d have to keep their mouths shut. It wasn’t like with Chang and Diggory who were able to give each other flirtatious smiles and winks before each game. 

No, if they’d dated when they were at Hogwarts and people knew that they were, their houses would shun them. That’s just how it was. 

They weren’t in Hogwarts anymore though. Maybe people who held onto their old house would find it odd, but Marcus assumed most people wouldn’t care. He was more concerned about the odd homophobe if anything. 

Obviously he wouldn’t encounter the ladder with the girls. He also doubted Oliver would have him sit with them if he knew they would hate him immediately for being a former Slytherin. 

One of the girls saw him coming to sit, Katie Bell he remembered. She nudged the other girl and she turned to look at him too. He was able to place her as Alicia Spinnet. 

They weren’t giving him any looks of distaste or surprise. Actually, they were giving him friendly looks. That wasn’t a look he’d ever gotten from Gryffindors. 

“Hey, Flint,” Katie said as he sat in his seat next to Alicia. “Oliver said you were coming around.”

He gave an awkward smile. “Hi,” he said. “I know you expected his sister would be here though.”

Alicia shrugged. “Yeah but Oliver seemed excited that you’d be here instead.”

Oh crap. He didn’t need to hear that Oliver was excited to watch him play. That implied far too much. 

It could be completely platonic excitement though. He could so easily just be excited that his friend he had sex with was there to see him play. He’d never seen him play with Puddlemere after all. He was curious to see how much he’d improved. 

The stadium was getting filled up with excited witches and wizards. A few seats filled up next to him, and a woman came to sit next to Katie. She apparently was Puddlemere’s Seeker Jen Montgomery’s girlfriend, Luce. He remembered the gossip rags talking about it when she was caught kissing her girlfriend and made no attempt to deny she was a lesbian. This was after countless rumours she and Oliver were a couple due to their closeness. He remembered Oliver making a joke in an interview when questioned about this how they more so connected on both being gay. That made him laugh because the notion of being friends with mostly other queer people – Terence and Adrian in his case – was a far too relatable. 

Luce seemed nice enough, and she didn’t drill him about what his relationship with Oliver was. She also didn’t try to make small talk with him, focussing on Alicia and Katie instead. He stayed happy in his silence, glancing around the stadium. The sight of the pitch was a nice familiarity. He thought about how much he adored playing the sport, how much time he’d spent on it. 

Quidditch was the only thing he’d been good at when he was at Hogwarts. Even though what he now knew was dyslexia made him struggle with academics, he could make good plays. He could fly well and score on challenging Keepers. He knew how to be a leader. Those came naturally to him, especially since by the time he was captain he’d asserted himself into someone who was feared. Keeping his team in line made that all that much easier. It was also a way for him to get him frustration out every time he got a D or P. It was an outlet for him.

He really missed it but by now, he’d probably lost any and all skill. It’s been almost seven years after all. 

When the game began, he put his focus on that. But the second he caught sight of Oliver at the goalposts, his eyes didn’t move. He could hear the commentator but he wasn’t really listening. All he cared about was watching Oliver save goals and dodge bludgers. He’d definitely improved. His stance as he gracefully saved goals, as he swung himself into different directions. He even batted the quaffle away a few times with his broom. Years before, he would’ve thought he was a show off for it but now, it only made him smile. 

His skill had overall improved. He still had the excited look in his eye, that was also somehow focussed. His mind was on nothing but making sure the Harpies didn’t score. Every time he was scored on, it was just barely and he quickly recovered, going back into action soon enough and going quite some time before letting the quaffle pass again. He had his determination, he didn’t lose any focus on the quaffle when it was away from his end of the pitch. He always seemed to be ready to make sure it didn’t fly into the goals. 

He did get a wave of panic a few times, when a bludger would almost get him. He seemed to dodge them easy enough, still having his excellent reflexes. He seemed smart enough to not try and save a quaffle if it were at risk of getting hit by a bludger, thankfully. He never understood that tactic of his he had as a kid. He’d gotten hurt because of it multiple times. His coach must’ve pulled him off of it. Which he was thankful for if that was the case, but he still felt a rush of anxiety when it looked like he was going to go for it when there was a bludger in his path. Like it was a reflex for him, but he stopped himself each time. He didn’t want him to be carried off of the pitch with a severe head injury. 

He overall was doing amazing. He caught the quaffle with skill he hadn’t seen from him before. He saved goals he probably would never have been able to while still at Hogwarts. He was able to smack the quaffle right before it when through the goal post. He saved some goals after the Chaser would fake it in the other direction. 

He had gotten better and seven years ago, he wouldn’t have thought he could have gotten better because he was already amazing. Yet, he’d gotten better. He flew skilfully with grace, he saved goals and made it look like it was easy. Even when it came to impossible saves. 

He was so caught up in watching Oliver that he didn’t really notice when the snitch got caught. He only realised because the girls cheered especially loud, making him look for Jen and seeing her with the snitch shining in her hand. He glanced back at Oliver and smiled when he saw he was doing a victory lap and hook his arm over Jen’s shoulders in a half hug. He could see him laughing with joy from where he stood. He loved seeing that. His joy was infectious in ways, even from this far away. 

He must’ve been obviously staring, because Alicia nudged him. He blinked and glanced at her, giving her a questioning look. 

“The tickets we got let us down to the pitch. We usually wait for Oliver to come by.”

He looked at her and nodded. “How long do they usually take to shower?” he asked. 

She shrugs and they started to walk down. “We’re usually gone by then. He usually says hi before showering.”

Oh, that made sense. He should probably head out afterwards too. Oliver was probably far more interested in celebrating the win with his team. He really didn’t have to be forced to meet six or more people at once. 

He followed the girls to a spot by the corridor that lead to changing rooms and offices. He idly glanced towards it before glancing around to see if he could catch sight of Oliver. He saw all the players fly down, so he should be somewhere. 

He did end up seeing him but he was surprised to see him talking to a reporter. Wasn’t press after games typically for captains and coaches? 

Regardless, the reporter was asking Oliver and he was responding. He looked pretty calm while doing so, handing his wand easily to one of his teammates. 

He tried to not be annoyed but he wanted to congratulate him on the win. He knew his time would be consumed by his work sometimes though, so he waited patiently. 

“Oh, there’s Jen!” he heard Luce say and he looked away to see a girl barrelling at them. The Seeker, Jen. She was still in her uniform and her hair was a mess in her bun. 

“Hey!” she said, clearly still high on her adrenaline and flung her arms around Luce. She laughed and hugged her back.

“You were amazing!” she said and kissed her cheek. 

“I think that was the fastest I’ve caught a snitch!” she grinned, and Katie and Alicia gave her their own congratulations. 

His silence must’ve gotten her attention. She eyed him for a moment. “Who’re you?”

He blinked, a little unsure what to say. His name wouldn’t really supply enough. “Uh, Marcus.”

“Oliver’s Marcus,” Katie interjected, before she could say anything.

Jen’s face lit up in excitement. “Oh hey! Oliver said he had invited someone.”

He nodded a little awkwardly. “Yeah, his sister couldn’t make it so I was all that was left,” he shrugged. 

“Yeah, you’re his boyfriend right?” 

He could feel the colour drain from his face at the word boyfriend. The word carried so much weight and he wouldn’t use it for their confusing as hell relationship. “No,” he said. “We’re friends.”

Jen looked a little surprised but didn’t push. “Well, I should head to the showers anyway,” she said. She turned back to Luce. “See you at home,” she said and pecked her lips before running off the down the corridor to the changing rooms.

Luce said a quick goodbye to them before Disapparting. That made Marcus look back towards Oliver, seeing he was still talking to the reporter. He was ready to go there and pull him away. 

“You know, I think we should get going too,” Katie said. 

He glanced back at the two. “I thought you wanted to see him?” 

Alicia shrugged. “He’ll live, we’ll see him again anyway. Tell him we said he did great.”

He didn’t have a chance to argue because Katie took out her wand and they Disapparted in front of him. 

Okay, maybe he should’ve guessed they would attempt to meddle a little bit. 

“Marcus!” a voice called with nothing but joy. He turned and he saw Oliver jogging towards him, the biggest grin on his face. 

He smiled back at him, not caring who saw his teeth. “Hey!” he said as he wrapped his arms around him. He hugged him back, squeezing him, not caring that he was sweaty. “You did great!” 

He pulled away enough to look at him but kept his arms around him. “The Harpies were a challenge though.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “You made it look like it was easy.”

He laughed, his brown eyes sparkling. “Sure, Mar,” he said.

Mar. That wasn’t a nickname he’d heard before but he sure as hell liked it. It was like when calling him Ollie had rolled off of his tongue and now it was the only thing he wanted to call him. 

“‘Right if I kiss you?” he asked, suddenly realising how much he wanted to. 

He smiled. “Sure,” he said. It was a quick kiss. Appropriate in public, not like the intense one they’d shared at New Years. But he still felt his stomach become nothing but knots. When they pulled back, he noticed Oliver’s face was a little flushed from the game.

“I should go shower,” he said, stepping away from him. “That reporter kept me away.”

“Who was that reporter, anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, he works for Snitch Is Out,” he shrugged. “Wanted to talk to me and Jen. I think they’re looking for Ginny now, scandal from breaking up with Harry and coming out as a lesbian and all.”

Oh, he knew that magazine. It was the only quidditch magazine that had an emphasis on queer players. It either focussed on their stories or it just boosted them up a little more. He had his own stash at his parents house under his bed that he would tear through. 

“Hope they don’t harass the poor girl too much,” he said, with a light laugh. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I hope they’re not too invasive,” he cleared his throat. “Uh, I was meant to ask. Do you want to come celebrate the win at this pub? You don’t have to come or anything.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about me. Have fun with your team. I’m not the best at small talk,” he lightly laughed. 

He looked disappointed. “Oh, I can just not go.”

He shook his head. “No, go have fun with your friends.”

“I’d rather hang out with you.”

“Ollie–”

“It’s fine, Mar,” he assured, putting a hand on his arm. “Like I said, I’d rather spend my time with you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You came to this game, which is enough. Not everyone goes to the pub afterwards anyway. Jen’s not going tonight and she’s who I like on the team the most,” he laughed. “Without you, there’s no reason to go.”

He bit his lip. “Okay, only if you’re sure.” 

He nodded. “I am, don’t worry.”

He pecked his lips and jogged down the corridor to the showers. 

Why did the casual peck tingle his lips more than their kiss from before?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor boys confused about feelings™. I can't believe we've only got three more chapters left! I'm so excited to finish this! And casual kisses are one of my favourite things.


	17. Chapter 17

There was always something weird about going to training right after winning a match. The coach liked to keep Puddlemere in top shape which Oliver wouldn’t complain about. They did need to be ready in case they made it into the finals. 

He did enjoy cooling off with Marcus though. They’d spent the past few days together. Marcus would come straight to his flat when he finished work. 

What made it different now was that the intent wasn’t sex. Sure, they still had sex but coming over was more about spending time together than having sex. Things had definitely changed a lot. 

He wasn’t going to slap the boyfriend label on it because they hadn’t talked about that. But at that point, there was no other word for it. They weren’t just sleeping together, they would kiss for no reason, and they’d even coined nicknames for each other. 

It was a boyfriend thing. It wasn’t something people who were just shagging did. Lounging around his flat together, even eating together or falling asleep that wasn’t after sex. Hell, even talking about his day with Marcus while Marcus did the same was a boyfriend thing. He knew for a fact he wasn’t sleeping with guys anymore because he was always with him if they weren’t working. 

He’d assume he was over analysing the situation if other people hadn’t noticed.

“So how’s the boyfriend going?” Xavier asked, glancing at him, slipping off his gear, his face flushed from practice. 

He blinked for a moment, the comment getting Will and Aaron’s attention. 

“Was that the bloke that was at the Harpies’ game?” Aaron asked, an intrigued smile on his face. 

Typically he’d just deny it. Because he wasn’t his boyfriend and fooling himself into thinking he was wouldn’t be the best for him. But he was far too confused by the status of their relationship to explain it. 

So he gave a simple answer. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “And uh, yeah it’s good. He’s good. We’re good.” Good was one way to put it. He was still stressing over the right lable for them. He really needed to bring it up to him because it was all he could think about. 

They’d really had connected in ways he never thought they would. It didn’t feel like it was platonic anymore. It felt like a relationship. After the amount of times they’d stayed the night at the other’s place and cuddled and kissed a little, that wasn’t a casual relationship. It was something couples did. 

The thing was, he liked falling asleep in his arms and waking up nuzzled next to him. The high from the beginning of their relationship was gone and it felt like it wanted to mature into something else. But they had to put in the effort to actually let it turn into something that wasn’t what they initially planned. They would have to acknowledge that that was where the were now though, and it felt like they were both refusing to get to that point. Even though it was what he wanted and maybe what Marcus wanted too. If he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t stay around like he did. 

If he didn’t want a relationship though, he should end it. His feelings for him had gotten more and more intense. He should ease into it slowly, he wouldn’t blurt that he was in love with him or anything. He felt like he was at that point but maybe it wasn’t the best thing to bring up to him when he might be in his own state of confusion. 

He really should just swallow his pride and bring up what they were both refusing to admit; they were boyfriends at this point. They couldn’t lie to themselves anymore and pretend they were just casually sleeping together. 

“Better than your ex, I hope,” Xavier said making him laugh. 

“Yeah, I promise,” he nodded. And he was. He always wanted to hear about how practice went and his support at the Harpies game was more than he could ask for. 

“Is that why you’ve been so happy lately?” Will asked. 

“I’ve seemed happier?” he asked, a little surprised. 

He shrugged. “You just seemed different, I guess. You didn’t seem to come to practice angry or upset about something anymore.”

He did tend to be angry a lot when he was still with Shane. He’d upset him or piss him off in some way, making it last for hours until he was forced to apologise when he did nothing wrong.

He remembered Marcus saying he might’ve been emotionally abused and that made his stomach drop. Had he really been abused so much and not realise it? He’d always been told the heteronormative lens of abuse where a man hit his wife or girlfriend. He’d never been told there were other ways he could be abused without getting hit. 

Maybe Marcus was right. His parents sure as hell were able to abuse him without laying a finger on him, especially after seeing what happened at the Christmas ball. 

He didn’t want to dwell on that too much. He wanted to focus on going forward. 

Part of that was finally admitting how he felt about Marcus. Especially working out that conflict between them. He hated trying to talk about his emotions. He could never properly talk about them, but one of them had to say something or they’d be dancing in circles for god knew how long. 

He would do it after practice. He had to just get it over with because they were both stubborn enough to let it last until it either blew up in their faces or one of them brought it up. 

…

Marcus always got to his flat around the same time. He’d changed out of his fancy robes into something more comfortable and would always give him a smile when he saw him, not hiding his teeth like he used to. That always made something bubble in his stomach. Oliver loved Marcus’s smile and it took him time to believe it. 

It was the best thing for him to greet him with. 

“Hey,” Marcus said and bent forward to peck his lips across the counter. “How was practice?”

He shrugged, setting his mug of tea on the counter. “Alright, how was your day?”

“Bill brought a lot of bronze in,” he shrugged. “His wife came around too so Xander lost concentration for a few minutes.”

He laughed, remembering how Bill Weasley’s wife was part veela. He didn’t understand how even at part veela their powers were still so strong. 

“Pretty rude to make you work on your own,” he said and walked around the counter to his side. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually,” he said.

He drew his brows together. “Alright,” he said, sounding confused as he cocked his head to the side. “What?”

He shuffled on his feet and cleared his throat. “Well, we’ve been hanging out a lot lately, haven’t we?”

He nodded. “We have, yeah. What’s your point?”

He chewed his lip. “Well, our initial deal was just to have sex, right? But lately we’ve been doing a bit more than that.”

He blinked at him. “What? So you’d rather keep it at just sex? Because I thought cuddling was okay with you–”

“No,” he cut him off before he could make the absolute wrong assumption. “I love all that shit, I mean, we’re doing that anyway and I think that we’re at a point we’re not just fucking around anymore.”

His brows rose in realisation and he frowned at him. “The fuck? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t–”

“Cuddle? Kiss when we’re not having sex?” he asked, crossing his arms. Because they agreed to all of that yet they’d broken it. 

“A relationship. We agree we wouldn’t have a relationship. I told you not to go catching feelings.” He didn’t sound angry, even though it was all over his face. He sounded more distressed. Like he was in a panic mode. Maybe he did feel the same way and was scared where this would lead them. Or he was scared he would catch feelings and would have to let him down like this. 

It was probably the latter of the two. Sometimes Marcus seemed so emotionally stunted that he couldn’t possibly let himself fall in love with him. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I was just saying this feels like a relationship. We hang out after work, we kiss each other when we see each other, you stay over night and we cuddle until we fall asleep.”

“And we can’t have all that and still keep it casual?”

“That’s not casual! That’s a relationship!” 

His jaw clenched. “This was just meant to be sex, Oliver. We both knew that,” he said, his voice calm and steady. 

He could feel his stomach twist into a knot. Of course it was, he was the one who let himself fall for Marcus goddamn Flint. He thought he was different from who he was at Hogwarts. That he wasn’t that aggressive kid anymore. But here he was, showing that he didn’t even care to spare his feelings about how he felt. 

He should’ve just cut it off when he realised they were getting too close. They were never meant to get this close. They were meant to sleep with each other when in the mood. He wasn’t meant to have any confusing feelings like this. They weren’t ever meant to cuddle and kiss casually, Marcus was never meant to support him at his games. They could’ve been friends, maybe, but not when they would follow it up with falling asleep together after kissing the other good night. 

They were such boyfriends and Marcus wouldn’t even let himself admit to it. 

He took a deep breath. “If you don’t like relationships, or you don’t want to be in one then why did you do everything a boyfriend would do?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. It didn’t stop the tears that were prickling at his eyes. 

He stared at him and the look that crossed his face was one that seemed like he saw the truth in his statement, like he realised people who were just fucking didn’t do what they did. 

He sighed. “You’re being ridiculous,” he said his voice soft. “You knew what this was. We’re just shagging, maybe you’re just so used to being in a relationship you can’t tell the difference.”

He shook his head. “I can sure as hell tell the difference between now and when we started.” Marcus had specifically told him that they wouldn’t cuddle, even after the first time they slept in the same bed – from their own choice and not exhaustion from sex – Marcus told him they weren’t going to cuddle. And he was okay with that because he understood what their relationship was. Cuddling towed the line into a romantic relationship in his eyes. Marcus seemed aware of that, which was why they both avoided anything that indicated towards romance. 

But that stopped a while ago now. He seemed ready to go back to avoiding it after the conversation they had when he asked him to his parents’ Christmas ball. Then the actual Christmas ball seemed to be when all that avoidance was thrown out of the window. Because for once, Marcus wanted to cuddle with him. He didn’t know how react to it at the time outside of complying, leading him to fall asleep with his chest pressed to his back. Maybe that was when the first feelings of love began to come. For him at least. He had expected Marcus to kick him out immediately, make himself deal with it on his own. Not ask him to comfort him. 

No matter how he tried to rationalise it, that’s what had happened. His mind had gone straight to it being because he had feelings for him other than lust. 

Clearly he was convinced that wasn’t really it. Or maybe he’d been naive enough to think Marcus would actually care for him.

“If you can’t tell the difference anymore then there’s no point in doing this anymore,” Marcus said. 

He felt a lump form in his throat. Was this really his version of a breakup? 

Yeah, it was because Marcus was an inconsiderate bastard. An inconsiderate, insensitive, dirty, cheating Slytherin bastard. He’d never been wrong about him. 

He should’ve figured, once a dirty cheating Slytherin, always a dirty cheating Slytherin. 

“If that’s the case then get the fuck out of my flat,” he said giving him the sharpest glare he could. 

Marcus whipped out his wand. “Fine, if you really want me to.” 

“It is,” he bit. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Marcus hesitated, probably waiting for him to continue to stall. But he didn’t, he stared at him and waited for him to leave. 

When the crack echoed in his flat that was when he allowed himself to cry.

…

After Marcus had left, he’d spent more time crying about it than he’d be willing to admit to. Nowhere near as long as he cried over Shane but still longer than was necessary. Especially for someone who wasn’t his boyfriend. 

He needed to get out of his flat so he showed up at Katie and Alicia’s flat, and neither of them seemed to miss his red puffy face or his red eyes. 

He ended up falling on their coach and he explained most of what had happened. He needed to vent to someone and they were his first thought. They knew Marcus while they were at Hogwarts, they knew what their relationship was like and how hostile it was. It would be a lot easier to talk to them and just vent rather than attempting to catch Jen and Luce up to date. He couldn’t really bother to go in depth with their rivalry and try to explain why Gryffindors and Slytherins hated each other, or the feeling of why he felt he should hate Marcus. 

They understood the rivalry as much as he did. Even if they’d predicted there was something between them back in those days – and he was starting to no longer deny that assumption – they would understand how it was so complicated. He wasn’t expecting advice, they were close friends before dating after all. But he just wanted to get everything out and how goddamn confused he was by him. 

They’d brought out the firewhiskey too, so the more he drank the more tongue tied he got. If anything, it just made his words slur more and harder to understand as he threw back each drink. He just hoped he wouldn’t start crying again the more he explained the situation.

Alicia and Katie sat next to him on their coach, nodding along and siping their own drinks. Even when he felt his sentences were incoherent they seemed to still understand.

“And so he just walked out,” he finished. “And I know for sure I’m in love with him but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if he loves me back or if I was foolish enough to think he’d love me back. You guys know what he was like at Hogwarts, he seemed to always be in a bad mood and no one had anything good to say about him. I just thought maybe he would’ve changed by now.”

Katie and Alicia looked at each other when he stopped talking, panting a little from saying far too much and dropping so much on them. They didn’t seem surprised or anything. 

Katie shook her head. “God, are all boys clueless?” 

“Not helping,” he grumbled, falling back on their couch. 

“What’s she’s trying to say Olls,” Alicia cut in. “Is that, Marcus clearly loves you back and you really haven’t noticed.”

He sat back up and stared at them. “What? No, he told me we were nothing. That we weren’t a couple or anything like that.”

“Oliver, we saw him at that quidditch match,” Katie said. 

“What of it? Him going doesn’t prove anything.”

“That man couldn’t take his eyes off of you,” Alicia said. “He looked fucking mesmerised.”

He blinked at them. Sure, during the game after he’d save a goal he might quickly glance at where Marcus and the girls sat to see Marcus looking. But he’d assumed he was just following the quaffle like most people did. Not only watching him. 

He’d assume that it was because he was seeing if he’d improved over the years (which he had). But the word that stuck out to him was mesmerised. In this case, it could’ve been a synonym for…

“You think he’s in love with me?” he asked, his voice coming out unsure. 

“Oliver, he asked you to comfort him after his parents blew up at him. He cried in front of you. He clearly feels like he can be vulnerable around you,” Alicia said and Katie nodded along. 

“Flint’s not the type to be like that, is he?” Katie added. “He doesn’t seem to be at least. He seems like the type that would bottle that shit up.”

He thought about it. He’d never predicated Marcus to be a cryer. Hell, he’d assumed his response to his parents would be sheer anger and breaking the first – inanimate – thing he saw. The tears were definitely unexpected, and so was comforting him by cuddling. He hadn’t expected Marcus would let him into his bed like that. He saw himself on the coach for the night. Even then, he thought Marcus would untangle them when he woke up and shuffle away from him, not embrace him even more. He thought at the time he just didn’t want to wake him up but he started to have his doubts now. He could’ve easily untangled them without waking him, he was a pretty heave sleeper after all. 

Well, when he wasn’t having nightmares. Which he still had from time to time but Marcus was there to ease him out of them. They weren’t going to go away completely and he’d learnt to accept that. He’d even gotten a couple when Marcus wasn’t there, or when he didn’t wake up, and had an easier time getting himself out of them. 

He couldn’t swallow the possibility of Marcus being in love with him though. It felt impossible with how he reacted. He wouldn’t love him back and he wouldn’t believe it until he heard it from his lips himself. There was no reason to believe the girls, they were convinced they were actually in love and he was just refusing to tell them. He could barely believe himself when he said aloud that he was in love with him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he told them but his words came out in a dazed slur. “He’s just a dirty, cheating Slytherin. We all said that about him in our Hogwarts days.”

“That was mostly you and it was about all Slytherins,” Katie said. 

“Yeah, most people just said he looked like a troll,” Alicia added. 

“He does not!” he argued, a little too defensively.

The two smiled at him. “You have weird taste, Olls,” Katie said. 

Maybe he did, because he found Marcus attractive even though he wasn’t conventionally so. It was hard to miss his crooked nose or the crooked teeth he would always try to mask peeking from under his upper lip. Most would turn away in mild distaste but he wanted to kiss that face and those lips.

It was like that bloke who had tried flirting with hm at that bar. ‘Not easy on the eyes’ he’d said, even though to Oliver, it would be the perfect face to wake up to every morning. Because it was Marcus. Maybe a dirty, cheating Slytherin but someone who was funny, who was teasing, who loved his siblings with everything in him. He didn’t even seem to hold any passive hatred or annoyance with them, he just loved them. Enough to get their initials tattooed on him. That was the kind of sibling love you heard about but never saw. The kind where you would say you’d take an Unforgivable Curse for and mean it. He couldn’t get the image of pure joy of him seeing his little sister at the Christmas ball. She was probably still in Hogwarts and he’d must’ve missed her throughout her absence. Even the teasing banter with his brother showed another side to him. He saw the real Marcus, not school Marcus or the Marcus who tried to hide how he was really feeling. 

That was the Marcus he’d fallen in love with. That wasn’t the Marcus he knew in school, or the Marcus he slept with after talking for a few minutes after not seeing each other for six years. It was the Marcus who comforted him when he had a nightmare. It was the Marcus who had broken down in tears in front of him. It was the Marcus he had talked to and had his first real connection with after he asked him to his parents ball. 

If all of that accounted to having ‘weird taste’ he’d take it. 

“Yeah, maybe I do,” he shrugged lazily. 

Alicia smiled. “Now get some sleep, you’ve had too much to drink so stay on the couch.”

He yawned and nodded. He fell asleep in the most comfortable position he could get in and snuggled into the blanket one of the girls thew over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm sorry for how this ended. Give Marcus time, he's a poor sweet baby who doesn't know how to handle feelings.
> 
> Appolgies for any typos, I wrote this rather quickly and I'm too tired to proof read. 
> 
> Also, unexciting for you guys but this is officially the longest thing I've ever written so I'm proud of myself.


	18. Chapter 18

The bar looked the same as it always did. Not too busy but busy enough. Marcus saw a couple of new faces, and some familiar ones too. 

It still had the same welcoming atmosphere, where he felt his nerves disappear. 

Most of them at least. That argument he'd had with Oliver was still putting a strain on him. For weeks he'd been able to convince himself that all the cuddling and kisses for nothing fit into what they were doing well. But he knew that wasn't the case and he was foolish to tell himself for so long that there wasn't something else to their relationship. He could barely call it one. 

He'd initially been scared Oliver would fall for him but simultaneously, he didn't think someone like him ever could. Not someone so amazing he could get any man he wanted. It was best to break it off before he could get hurt more than he already was.

The best way for him to do that was to shag someone else. He'd never gone this long without shagging someone he met at the bar, Oliver excluded. He wouldn't even say he missed it, because he didn't. He liked being with Oliver, it was enough. While he was with Oliver he had no desire to go find someone else to sleep with, even though he easily could. Oliver was enough. He didn't think either of them would even want a relationship out of this. That wasn't the plan going in, especially when you account for their history. 

It felt like for so long their history forbidden them from having a real relationship. Even when he considered Terence once pointing out how much he seemed to love stirring Oliver up. 

Something had been there since they were that young. They clearly didn't know how to handle it at that age. But they were both lost as ever. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave or to figure all the shit out. All he knew was that he got scared when Oliver tried to imply they were boyfriends at this point. He was able to convince himself they weren't because they'd never gone on a date. In his mind, going on a dates while doing all the shit they did equalled a relationship. They'd never gone on a date. He'd made it clear his parents' Christmas ball wasn't one and that the New Years date was nothing but platonic. 

Even though he kissed him at midnight. Which would be romantic in most people's eyes. But to him it wasn't, it couldn't be. He didn't even know how to be in a relationship. 

But when he looked at it in hindsight, they fit together well. The last few weeks was proof enough of that. But they could easily crash and burn. Because of their past. Because of his parents. Because Oliver's parents would probably not see him as someone for him, especially after hearing how harsh they could be.

But he was the one to break it off, he walked out on whatever the fuck was happening between them and Oliver didn't stop him. If he'd cared, he would've stopped him. 

He kept that in mind when he sat at the counter. He felt a sense of comfort when he saw the same bartender he'd always see. 

When he saw him, he looked a little surprised to see him but gave him a friendly look. 

"Hey, didn't expect to see you alone," he said. "What happened to cute guy?"

He shrugged. "Uh, nothing don't worry about it. Can I just get a beer?"

He nodded and got him a bottle. Marcus took a sip of it, letting it calm him down. 

"Sorry, I don't mean to pry but he was your boyfriend, right?" the bartender asked, frowning at him. "I mean, you two looked pretty happy at New Years."

He shook his head. "He wasn't my boyfriend," he muttered. "We were only ever shagging."

"But, I don't know, you looked at each other like you were in love or something."

His shoulders slumped. He looked back on that night and he wanted to smile each time. The dancing, the kiss at midnight, going back to his flat to cuddle as they fell asleep. 

God, any other person would look at that and wonder how he could miss all the romantic tension between them. But that was exactly what he was scared of. He was terrified of entering a relationship with him. The entire reason he never slept with a guy more than once was to avoid catching feelings. He didn’t know why he let himself sleep with Oliver more than once. He’d never done it before and it would’ve been more than easy to shake him off, he’d gone six years without seeing him or even thinking about him. 

But he really couldn’t stop thinking about him the next day. He filled his mind to the point he couldn’t even sleep with someone else. 

Maybe if he weren’t so unloved as a child or if his parents weren’t so angry at him over his sexuality, he’d have an easier time. He wasn’t sure if he was even looking for something by sleeping with muggles. 

But Oliver was still the only person who stuck. He never felt the need to go find someone else because he was enough. 

He might actually have feelings for him which was almost laughable. The last thing he wanted with the person he would’ve never seen himself with. But he was at this point and he let himself get there. He’d felt a weird buzzing in his stomach when he’d told Chris and Jules that Oliver was his boyfriend. It didn’t feel like a lie on his tongue. It felt like he really was introducing him as part of his life. 

He could commit to him, that was the thing. It wasn’t as if he he was impossible to fit into his life, the last few weeks showed they were the perfect match. Hell, Oliver seemed to want an actual relationship. 

He was scared, that’s what it was. He was scared of being with Oliver. Or with anyone. They were basically already a couple, it was the label that scared him. 

“Honestly,” he sighed. “I don’t even know anymore. I walked out on him when he suggested we actually take this seriously and be in a relationship.”

The bartender frowned. “Do you want that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I think I do. But I guess I’m scared.”

He nodded. “Maybe you should tell him this. If you really want to be with him, that’s the best you can do.”

He did want to be with him. He was mostly just terrified. He’d never been good at talking about his feelings but that seemed to be the only way to sort this out. 

But maybe after his initial reaction he wouldn’t want to talk to him. He’d completely disregarded wanting to be with him. He probably wouldn’t even want to talk to him after his reaction. 

Maybe telling him the truth, and his underlining fear would make him understand. The fear was out weighing his desire of a relationship. But he wanted a relationship with him, he was pretty sure of that now. 

They needed to actually talk about it. If they were going to be in a relationship, Oliver would have to know all the shit he was getting into with him. Like Nadia, when she saw how his parents reacted to him telling the Greengrass’s he was gay.

But he already knew what he would be getting into. He saw how his parents spoke to him, he still stayed. He still wanted a relationship out of this. Or he was just too optimistic and thought they’d be able to have a relationship while dealing with that bullshit. 

He should go and talk to him, if he was willing. He’d have to be honest with how he felt. The possibility of someone actually loving him was so alien to him. Yet here he was, offering that to him. He wanted to be with him, despite knowing the boy he was at Hogwarts. Or at least the outside, the angry kid who cheated at quidditch and scared people. Really, he was just a repressed, scared kid. That wasn’t who he was anymore, and Oliver seemed to see that. 

It never was him to begin with. It was the persona he put on, ignited by the fear his first crush had created. 

He didn’t want to dump this on Oliver but maybe it would make him understand why he ran out, why he got scared. Oliver seemed empathetic enough, he hoped at least. Maybe he would understand where he was coming from and where his fear lied. 

“I don’t know,” he said with a gruff. “He might hate me now.”

“Some people are forgiving, especially if you give them a good enough reason. But, if you want my honest opinion? You seemed far happier with him on New Years than any time you’ve come by here.”

He pressed his lips together. Was he really that happy? Could people really see it that easily? He couldn’t remember being that happy in a while but was it truely to the point people could tell the difference? How long had he been a lump of sadness? 

He wondered if it showed at Oliver’s game. When he ran to hug him, when he kissed him quickly. Was their happiness that obvious? Everyone else seemed to be interpreting them as a couple after all. 

His plan was to come here and look for someone to sleep with. But even without being distracted by the bartender, he couldn’t see a single man who drew him in. Who he wanted to pin to a bed and let out everything he was feeling. 

They didn’t compare to Oliver in his mind. Ever since he’d slept with Oliver, no one had. It was a game of comparison, and how his mind seemed drawn to him and him only. Maybe it was only because that annoying Gryffindor he sort of found attractive as a kid had turned into a man, and clearly so at that. He’d gone from teenage burliness, to pure muscle. But he’d matured, toned down on the obsession of quidditch to a love for the game, as his job and as his passion. 

The more he got to know him, the more apparent it was. He even had glimpses at his vulnerabilities when he talked about his ex or his parents. He’d assumed that the golden boy of Gryffindor lead to have a perfect life and a perfect relationship, Snitch Is Out sure tried hard to portray that. Along with this weird proof of masculinity and talent in sport queer men could have, that Xavier guy too. That was one thing he definitely didn’t like about the magazine. It seemed almost exploitive of any queer men in the league. 

Nonetheless, he seemed happy in his relationship and hearing how emotionally abusive it actually was wasn’t what he’d expected. It was bad enough that Oliver’s first thought was to sleep with someone else as soon as he could. 

He didn’t want a relationship like that, not one that would suffocate him. Oliver had definitely been affected by it, no wonder he would’ve wanted a casual relationship at first.

But sometimes feelings decided to intervene and ruin everything. They weren’t part of the plan but they did need to actually sort things out now that they were there. 

Did he want to take that risk? He’d already felt hurt from walking out on him and all to avoid the possibility of being hurt if they broke up. 

He was either going to get hurt or this would be the best decision he’d ever made. He knew that romantic relationships were already those kind of risks, and he could already imagine Oliver hurt from his words. 

He didn’t want Oliver hurt, he suddenly realised. He was scared of getting himself hurt but he didn’t want to hurt Oliver in the process, especially because there was something between them. They just needed to actually talk it out rather than yelling at each other. Oliver simply stating, rather than asking, whether or not they were boyfriends wasn’t his best approach. Take a reckless Gryffindor to do that. 

God, he thought he was over house stereotypes. Maybe they’d been ingrained into him too much for it to easily be left behind, even after six long years of being away from the castle.

“I think I’ll talk to him,” he said, his shoulder relaxing as he finally gave in. Because if he didn’t, he’d wonder for the rest of his life what could had been. 

He stood up from the bar stool. “I’m gonna go talk to him,” he said and threw muggle money on the counter to pay. Thank you to Amy for always providing him with said money.

He nodded. “Good luck,” he said. ”And by the way, my name's Gavin.

...

He’d gotten into the habit of simply Apparating into Oliver’s flat, usually without warning. So standing on the other side of his door and knocking felt strange. But he didn’t want to just spring into his flat if he wasn’t ready to face him. 

The door opened and he saw him, his hair muzzled and bags under his eyes. He was still in his sleepwear even though it was noon. He really hoped he hadn’t had any nightmares that lead to anxiety attacks. 

He frowned when he saw him, staring at him with an almost displeased look.

“If you’re here just to shag me, then fuck off,” he said bitterly, ready to close the door in his face.

He shook his head quickly. “No, that’s not why I’m here,” he assured. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

His mouth went in a straight line, and looked at him as if he were searching for a lie. Then he stepped out of the way and let him in. “Fine.”

Awkwardly, he stepped in. He didn’t sit at the couch, just awkwardly standing between the couch and where Oliver stood near the door. 

He turned to him and crossed his arms over his chest. “What was it?” he bit at him.

He felt a lump in his throat and shuffled his feet slightly. “Are you okay? Have you had any nightmares?” He wanted to get that out of the way and hopefully it would show him he really did care about him. 

“I did, but I’m fine. I didn’t have an anxiety attack,” he said, harshness in his tone. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to check on me though, did you?”

That was sure a punch in the gut. One he deserved. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the other day,” he said.

He narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, for being a complete asshole?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

That wiped the glare right off his face. His arms dropped to his side. “What?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I was caught off guard and didn’t really know how to handle feelings.”

“My feelings?”

“No, my feelings.”

He frowned again. “You have feelings for me?”

He probably should’ve started with that. “I do.”

Oliver was silent for a moment then shook his head. “Then why the hell did you walk out?”

He felt his stomach go in knots. “Can we sit?” he asked, nodding to the couch.

Oliver glanced passed him at it and nodded. “Fine.”

Awkwardly, they sat on the couch keeping a lot of space between them. Maybe that was for the best for now. 

“So, what? Why’d you walk out?” Oliver asked, looking at him expectantly. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and before he lost his nerve, he answered. “I was scared. Of a lot of things.”

“Like?” he prompted. 

“For one thing, you saw what my parents were like. You probably wouldn’t want to subject yourself to that.”

He frowned. “Marcus, no,” he shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t stop me from wanting to be with you. Sometimes shitty parents happen but I want to be with you enough that it doesn’t matter. Yes, I hurts like shit but I can put up with it if it meant being with you.”

Well, at least there was that. “It’s not just that,” he said. “I’ve spent so long convinced no man would ever want to be with me because I’m worth less than shit. I’m just an unloveable brute that looks like he has troll blood, I knew that over ten years ago.”

“Stop there,” Oliver gaped at him, shaking his head. “No, you’re none of those things.”

He almost scoffed. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered. “I’d heard all the shit kids in school would say, people in my own damn house would taunt me with those shit remarks.”

“I thought you weren’t the type to care what other’s thought.”

He swallowed. “Some stuff still stings,” he muttered. 

He shuffled a little close to him. He wanted so desperately for him to touch him. “You’re not unloveable. And hell, I’m attracted to you so that should be enough.”

His tone sounded genuine and he was inclined to believe him. He wasn’t a liar, he was probably the most honest person he knew. 

It was a little hard to believe because he knew the only reason guys slept with him was because most knew he wasn’t lacking in the important department. He’d think that was the only reason Oliver slept with him if it weren’t for his reaction to seeing it, like the thought of his dick being big had never been a thought to cross his mind. 

That kind of made him believe he truely found him attractive. 

Maybe because he did. Because he was weird like that. 

“I guess I just felt no one would want to actually be with me that I just avoided relationships so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

He frowned. “So, that’s why you never slept with a guy more than once.”

He nodded a little. “Yeah, it worked but I guess looking back it wasn’t healthy. Especially since part of it was just to spite my parents. Which was mostly self serving because there’s no way I would tell them about my sex life.” 

He still didn’t really understand his logic. It was some sort of idea he had at nineteen and it carried out for all of these years. He was too stubborn to really look at it and wonder why he was still doing it as much as he did. It hadn’t made him happy, it just kept him from a relationship which was the goal. 

He glanced away from him and looked at his lap. “And more to do with us, I thought you wouldn’t have feelings for me. I just didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

He felt his hand cover his own as he shuffled closer to him. “You’re more than good enough,” he said. 

“I guess I sometimes feel broken,” he admitted. 

“I get that,” he nodded. “That’s why I stayed with Shane for so long.”

“You deserved far better than him though,” he frowned looking back at him. 

“I didn’t know that, and my anxiety attacks made me think no other man would want me. I thought that until you coaxed me out of one.”

He frowned. “You know that being with me means my parents not approving, right?”

He nodded. “And being with me means anxiety attacks,” he said. “Do you think I’m less or broken because of them?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “God no. It makes you far stronger.”

Because he couldn’t imagine having to deal with those kind of intense nightmares so frequently, to have to go through anxiety attacks. He felt weak in comparison because he ran from the war instead of fight in it. It was admirable and made him feel like he wasn’t good enough for him. 

He pushed that last thought away, because the fact was he did want him. He did see him as enough for him. He didn’t understand why but that was the fact. 

Oliver war frowning at him. “I… I’ve never been told it made me strong. I’ve just wished it would go away for two years.”

“I hope it does,” he said. “I hate seeing you go through them.”

He smiled and shuffled closer to him so their legs were pressing together. “So you wanna do this? Be boyfriend?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said. “Because surprisingly, I love you” he smiled at him.

Oliver’s brows rose in surprise but he smiled. “I love you too.”

They smiled at each other and then laughed for a moment. This would’ve been settled so much sooner if they just talked because of course that was the answer to all problems. 

Oliver was lit up with laughter and that brought a nice fluttering to his stomach. 

He cupped his face in his hands and stroked his cheekbone. Oliver smiled at him and let him draw him into a kiss.

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t against this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, these boys actually talk things out.


	19. Epilogue

“Well, that was far less awful then I thought it would be.”

Oliver laughed and nudged Marcus with his elbow. “I told you it’d be fine.”

He’d had to tell himself that about fifty times. Taking Marcus to meet his parents for dinner could’ve gone in so many ways but it actually went well. 

He could tell they were initially skeptical of him but they’d warmed up to him quickly enough. 

So far, Amelia seemed to like him a lot since she invited them back to her house after they’d left. Amelia seemed to warm up quickly enough to him, and Jacob was welcoming too. It was what he needed.

He and Marcus had officially been boyfriends for a few months now. They weren’t officially living together but the were borderline so, with the amount of times either of them spent at the other’s house. It was nice, he was actually really enjoying it. 

He was happy they’d actually talked things out rather than leaving it open and confusing. He hadn’t thought Marcus would come back to him after backing out on him but he did and that was enough for him. 

He’d had a hard time processing with how insecure he actually was. He’d always assumed Marcus was the type who didn’t care what others thought of him but he’d realised like most people, he wasn’t made of stone. He shouldn’t have assumed that he was, that was no help to him or to help them lead into a relationship. 

They had gotten a lot better at communication overall, and the biggest obstacle right now was behind them. 

Despite that, him meeting his parents was nerve wracking. He was so polar opposite of Shane, even on appearance alone. Marcus certainly wouldn’t be able to charm his parents as easily as Shane had. But maybe they could see how happy he was and that made it easier to warm up to him. 

Amelia was sure ready to lay out any and all embarrassing stories about him. Her go to tended to be how he covered his walls as a child in male quidditch player posters. Thank god she didn’t know about the shirtless ones he’d torn out from Witch Weekly and Snitch Is Out, he could only do with so much embarrassment. 

Marcus was in the middle of explaining what exactly his job was and how wizard money worked – “like, gold is worth more than silver, which is worth more than bronze” – and he pointed out how muggle money made no sense – “you’re just assigning value to something. They’re all just this plastic paper or painted metal with different numbers on them, shouldn’t they technically be worth the same – letting him and Amelia have a conversation uninterrupted. 

“So, he seems nice.”

He smiled a little and shrugged. “Yeah, he’s great.”

“He’s really the guy you shit talked when you were a teenager, though?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and smiling. 

He laughed. “I was a kid, alright? For all we know, I just had a super gay crush on him and responded to it in anger.”

She grinned. “So you did have a crush on him!” 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I did, point is I do now,” he shrugged. 

“You seem way happier,” she said. “If he’s the reason, I like him already.” 

“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” he smiled and looked over at him, and saw that Jacob and Marcus still talking about currency and white made more sense – “it makes far more sense to have something given value and use like, four £400 notes, rather than four-hundred pieces of gold” – and Marcus shooting back with his own remarks – “but that gold is actually worth something, it’s not arbitrary – it was a little amusing to watch them argue over it. 

Marcus still had the argumentative side of him, if quidditch had shown him anything especially. Seeing the World Cup next year will be an experience, especially since they were both very patriotic and argued whether England or Scotland was better. Marcus was descent enough to keep his love for Montrose out of their relationship and still rooted for him at his games no matter who he was playing against. 

He was always happy to meet him after a game with a quick hug and kiss before going to shower. The press got a picture of one of said exchanges, so he quickly confirmed that that was indeed his new boyfriend. The howlers he got expressing that he was making a mistake and Shane was his soulmate weren’t fun though but it came with the job unfortunately. 

“I think mum and dad like him,” he said. 

“Not as much as Shane though.”

“Well, I like him far more than Shane already,” she said and squeezed his shoulder. “Now help me with tea.”

He nodded and followed her to the kitchen. She gabbed the kettle and the tea bags, pouring the water into four mugs and letting the tea bags float before she did a spell to boil the water in seconds. 

“Whats the point of the kettle if you’re just gonna do that?” he asked, getting the milk from the fridge and handing it to her. “Mar likes his black.”

“My useless husband needs something when he wants to make tea himself,” she shrugged. 

He laughed and took the two mugs she handed him. 

When they walked back to the lounge, Marcus seemed to have started to try and explain the Chaser position in quidditch.

“But you’re kind of useless if the snitch is worth so much!”

“It doesn’t mean that team has won the game, it means the game is over and that that team gets 150 points. But if they’re behind enough – thanks to the Chasers on the other team – they still lose. It happened in 1994’s world cup. Bulgaria lost to Ireland because their Seeker got the Snitch too soon.”

“But if you think about it, everyone should just go for the snitch!” 

“Only the Seeker can! And besides, points count towards the overall scores.”

Amelia laughed and handed Jacob his tea. “Not again, you’ve had this argument with Oliver so many times.”

“Yeah, Mar, he refuses to understand,” Oliver said and sat on the armrest of the armchair Marcus was sitting in. 

He groaned. “It’s not that hard to understand though! Imagine what a disaster the game would be if everyone just went for the snitch.”

“There’s literally balls designed to hit players,” Jacob pointed out. 

He couldn’t help but snort. “And ‘disaster’? Marcus, you would kick other Chaser’s in the face.”

“And one of those twins threw a bat in my face,” he pointed to his crooked nose. “All part of the game. It’d be worse if everyone just went for the snitch.”

“Never mind,” Jacob said. “I don’t understand this game I’ll stick to football.”

“Really? But football is so damn boring.”

He laughed. “I agree with that,” Oliver said and ruffled his hands in Marcus’s hair.

“Yeah, and far less dangerous in comparison,” Jacob said and rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you two even attempt it. Especially since your lower body strength and stamina probably sucks since quidditch is so focussed on upper body.” 

He expected Marcus to point out his lower body stamina was excellent, but Amelia cut in before he could. “I think you’re all just good at your respective sport. I’m terrible at both quidditch and football but I’ve given netball a go and I’ve gotten great.”

Oliver laughed. “Right, we’re good at our own things, got it.” 

“You’re still going to his games when you can, right?” Amelia asked, turning to him.

He blew his hair out of his face. “As long as this one doesn’t last 10 hours,” he said. “Another reason that damn game makes no sense.”

…

“You’re fidgeting,” Oliver pointed out frowning at Marcus. He’d been like that all day. He didn’t really blame him, his brother was having an engagement party meaning his parents would be there. 

Of course they would, it was going to be at the house he grew up in. He’d spent hours assuring Marcus he wouldn’t turn away on him no matter how harsh they got. Marcus seemed less concerned about that and more with facing them. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I haven’t seen them since Christmas.”

That would mean six months. He couldn’t imagine going that long without seeing his own parents but he wasn’t going to sit here and tell him he was wrong to feel that way, he was there after all. He’d be scared too if his parents had spoken to him like that. 

His own seemed to have embraced Marcus. They could still be slightly micro-aggressive but it was more unintentional now. He could live with it. They seemed to understand how happy Marcus made him, even though he didn’t give great first impressions. 

Oliver recognised some of the people walking into Flint Manor, mostly older students from when he attended Hogwarts. Surprisingly a mix of houses alumni. Some he didn’t recognise, which were probably Nadia’s guests. The rest appeared to be relatives from both of their sides. He just assumed anyone he didn’t recognise who had curly black hair or grey eyes were Marcus’s relatives because that gene was damn strong. 

“I’m just gonna find, Amy or Jules, preferably both,” he said. “You still need to meet, Amy, she’s gonna love you.”

He smiled and let him take his hand to lead him to the ballroom. Ballroom, that made him almost laugh. He was such a prestigious pure-blood it was almost laughable. The kind that would marry at twenty to someone they didn’t really like but they looked good together and their genes weren’t too close on the family tree. 

“Is her husband coming?” he asked, intertwining their fingers together. 

He nodded. “Yeah, he’s invited after,” he said. “It’ll be the first time she and my parents will have seen each other since she said she was marry John. Let’s hope it doesn’t end in disaster.”

He always felt bad for Amy. The thought of his own parents kicking Amelia out of their lives because she married Jacob seemed impossible. 

He was excited to meet her. Marcus really did love his siblings a lot and he wanted to meet the third of them. 

When they stepped into the ballroom, Marcus scanned the room. “I see Chris, not the girls. C’mon, I want to say hi to him and Nadia.”

He nodded and they walked hand in hand to his brother, seeing that they were talking to two curly haired women. Cousins, he assumed. 

Chris caught sight of the two and grinned. “Hey, Marc!” he said and the women looked at them. 

“Not late for once?” one of the women asked, smiling over her wine glass. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he nodded towards him. “He’s annoyingly punctual so we found a happy medium.”

“So this is the boyfriend!” grinned the other woman. 

He nodded and laughed. “Yeah, Evie, Claudia, this is Oliver.”

“We’re his cousins,” Claudia said. “So we have all the dirt from his childhood.”

“I’d rather you not besmirch my name so quickly,” he said, narrowing his eyes teasingly. “I like this one, a lot.”

Chris laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll pull him aside and tell him every embarrassing story I can.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said. “Is Ames here yet?”

“Yeah she’s in the gardens with Jules and John hiding from mum and dad.”

He smiled. “What a better reason to see her.”

They gave their quick byes and Marcus lead him to the gardens. He was still holding his hand, and they got stopped by a few people along the way to say hello to Marcus. Mostly relatives and family friends. Most did recognise him from Puddlemere, sometimes a goad at Marcus snagging him up followed. Others either didn’t know who he was or didn’t want to comment afraid of coming off as rude. 

They finally made it to the gardens, and Oliver gaped a little at the beauty of it. It was a massive, flowers creating a maze like structure with a gazebo and a fountain in the middle. Old busts stood on some cobblestone fence like structures. Flint ancestors, apparently but unsurprisingly. 

“Honestly, they make it ugly,” Marcus had joked before they walked to the gazebo where three people already were. 

They went unnoticed, until Marcus bellowed when they were pretty close, “Is that my freshly graduated little sister?” 

The three turned to look at them, and Juliet’s face lit up as she ran down the path. Marcus let go of his hand to wrap his arms around her. 

“Hey Marky!” she said, laughing with joy.

“I can’t believe you’re already graduated!” he said, stepping away from her. “Feels like yesterday you got sorted into your house.” 

She nodded. “I fucking know,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ll miss it, Slytherin antagonism was far worse in my last year. It was a nightmare.”

“Slytherin antagonism is a trite full of shit,” Amy nodded. 

Marcus glanced at him. “Don’t make the ole Gryffindor’s head pop off,” he laughed. 

Amy gave a fake shocked look. “You’re dating a Gryffindor alumni! Marcus, I’m horrified.”

Marcus laughed and put his arm across his shoulder. “Yeah, he was their quidditch captain too. I’m a house traitor.” 

“That’s how you know each other?” Amy asked, glancing between the two. “Oliver, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “And you’re Amy obviously.”

“One and only,” she smiled. She nodded to the man next to her. “And this is my husband, John,” she said. 

He gave a nod. “Hey, I don’t understand any of these terms but I got former sport rivals?”

Oliver nodded as Marcus laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. We didn’t get along but I think we grew up.”

He rolled his eyes. “He got a lot more tolerable.” 

John laughed. “Well, Marcus sure seems happy enough with you.”

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a Gryffindor,” Juliet teased. 

Marcus lightly shoved her shoulder. “You ever date a non-Slytherin I will hold it over you forever.”

She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. 

“So,” he asked carefully. “Where are mum and dad?” he asked. 

“Chris said they’re still upstairs,” Amy said. 

“Planning to face them?”

“I want to,” she shrugged. “Are you?”

Oliver glanced at him and saw how pale he’d suddenly gotten. “I know I should,” he said. “I just introduced this one to relatives as my boyfriend after all.”

He could tell Marcus still had some fear. He wished he could take out his wand and jinx it away, instead of it filling him with dread. He wanted to comfort him, to tell him that his parents didn’t matter. But he saw how hurt Amy’s situation made him, how scared he was that that would be him too if he wasn’t too careful. 

He wished he could get rid of those fears, but it was never that easy. His parents either will or won’t accept him. That was the sad reality for some. 

“You two just need to meet John’s uncles,” she said nodding to them.

Oliver looked at her confused but Marcus laughed. “Because they’re gay too?” he asked. “Because if that’s all we’ve got in common, then what’s the point.”

“I think she means how my uncle’s partner’s parents weren’t too accepting,” John interjected. “They’ve been together for over twenty years, sucks they can’t get married though.”

Amy nodded. “If mum and dad are still shit, you could talk to them.”

Marcus stared at her and a small smile came on her lips. “Thanks sis,” he said. “I don’t think it’ll be too bad, they just need to get their head out of their asses and realise this,” he squeezed his shoulder and pecked his cheek. “Is what’s right for me.”

“Right, let’s not get too corny,” Juliet said. “You both need to see mum and dad, we’re family we’ve gotta stick together and all.”

Amy and Marcus looked at each other. They seemed to exchange a silent agreement that she was right. Marcus glanced back at the manor. 

“Oh well, better get it over with,” he said. 

She nodded and looked at John. “Well, this’ll be fun.”

John nodded awkwardly. “Yep,” I guess. 

Amy and John headed in first and Marcus let her take the lead, taking his hand again.

“Do you think they’ve changed?” Juliet asked stepping forward and frowning at the couple ahead of them.

“No,” Marcus said. “The best we can hope for is that they’ll tolerate it,” he sighed. “But tolerating something isn’t the same as accepting something.”

Juliet was silent, before a weep escaped her lips. “I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” he said quietly as a tear rolled down her cheek. 

That stopped Marcus in his tracks. He let go of Oliver hands and brought Juliet into a hug. “Hey, sweets, it’s okay,” he said into her hair. “If they do, I’ll be okay, alright?”

She hugged him back, resting her forehead on his chest. “I just hate that they can’t just let her be apart of the family just because,” a sob. “Just because she married a muggle. She’s so in love with him and,” she sniffled. “They don’t care what makes her happy.” 

Marcus silently rubbed her back, rocking her a little. 

Oliver watched, and his heart broke a little. He’d never gone through the experience of being an older sibling. If it were him, he wouldn’t know what to do in the situation. 

Marcus was so soft, he didn’t even seem to realise how much so some of the time. But this showed him how sweet and kind and caring he could be. 

He was so in love with this man. 

He let her go after a few minutes when she calmed down, and Marcus looked at him with his own tears on his face. 

“Ready?” he asked, wiping a tear from his face.

“I am,” he said. “Are you?”

He took a deep breath. “As much as I an be, I guess.” He looked back at Juliet. “You okay, Jules?”

She wiped her nose. “I think I’m just gonna stay out here,” she said

He nodded and turned back to Oliver. “Lets go,” he said and took his hand. He realised how clammy they were in that moment. 

They walked back to the ballroom, each step of the marble staircase feeling like ten times more effort than it should be. 

He rubbed his own hand over Marcus’s and pressed his lips to the knuckle. “That’s gay,” Marcus joked lightly. 

He smiled. “Yep, and you’ll be alright, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “No matter how this goes, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He smiled at him, a genuine smile with teeth and all. “I love you,” he said.

He smiled. “And I love you,” he squeezed his hand. “You can do this, I know you can.” 

He nodded and when they saw Amy by his parents, they walked towards them, keeping their hands together and interlocking their fingers. 

Ursula was the first to see them. Her eyes dipped down to their hands and her expression was neutral. He’d take that over sheer anger or disgust.

“Marcus,” Richard said when he noticed the couple too. “We were just discussing your sisters situation.”

Oliver caught sight of Amy’s face, and from what he could tell it was relief. There were no tear stains or red eyes or pale skin to indicate she hadn’t been okay before they had shown up. 

“So, what did you say?” Marcus asked. 

Richard stood tall with his shoulders straight. “We don’t love this,” he said. “But it is what it is, we’ve decided.”

“So, you’re just tolerating it?” Marcus asked, frowning. 

“Barely,” Ursula said. “Much like,” she gestured between him and Marcus. “This. We can’t change it, but it’s no use cutting either of you off.”

“But you’d rather this wasn’t the situation,” Marcus pointed out.

“Marcus,” Amy cut in. “It’s fine, this is fine,” she said quickly. 

Marcus definitely wanted to argue more, he knew him well enough to know that was the case. But Amy telling him to stop seemed to be enough to make him so. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. 

“Now go enjoy the night,” Richard said. “It’s your brother’s engagement.”

Marcus and Amy nodded before they walked off, leaving the four alone. 

“Why didn’t you argue for better?” Marcus asked when they were out of earshot.

“Because they’re not going to give us better, Marc,” she said. “They’ll always be themselves. Stuff, pompous pure-bloods. The best we can do is just move on with out lives.” 

Amy didn’t looked pleased with what she was saying, but Marcus still nodded. “I wish they’d give us better.”

“I do too, but they’re not going to unfortunately.” 

They ended up parting off, and when he and Marcus were alone, Marcus turned to him. “Want to see my old room?”

He smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

He followed him up the staircase and down a corridor, to stop at one of the room. When he opened the doors, Oliver was met with a clean room, but one that was also covered in torn out posters of quidditch players. He smiled as he watched the figures move, flying around the picture. 

He saw medals that must’ve been from child quidditch teams he would’ve been on, shiny like they’d just been clean. It somehow showed all his personality in one look. 

In the quiet, Oliver could hear the muffled sound of the music under their feet in the ballroom. 

“Nice,” he said. 

“Far less messy than it was when I lived in it,” he smiled. 

He nodded and sat on the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked. “After the parent stuff?” 

Marcus shrugged, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dressrobes. “I think I will be, I just hate their attitude. It’s barely tolerance.”

“I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault. It’s their own fault they’re like this. I think they knew Amy would take scraps.”

“You deserve better,” he said. 

He huffed. “At this point, the most I can hope for is that they get over it. They probably won’t though.”

God, he wanted so badly to pull him into his arms and kiss his sadness away. 

The music still drifted into the room. It had switched to a slower one, the sound of muffled violins pleasing the ear. 

He stood up and held out his hand. “Wanna dance?” he asked. 

The sad look on his face disappeared. “Slow dance in my childhood bedroom?” he laughed. “You’re such a crony bastard.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” 

He smiled and took his hand, and together in the room they swayed to the music. Oliver rested his forehead on his shoulder while Marcus buried his face into his hair. 

He felt complete. He felt like everything he needed was in his arms and wasn’t going to leave him. The violins made them draw closer to each other, simply swaying on the spot. 

“I love you,” Marcus mumbled into his ear. “God, I love you so damn much. I never thought I could love someone so much.”

He squeezed his shoulders and pulled away to look at him. His face was soft as he looked at him, a look of pure adoration. The look that made him want to kiss the hell out of it.

So he did. He pulled his forehead from his to kiss his temple. Then he kissed the space between his thick brows. He kissed his cheek bone softly. With each kiss, he felt Marcus’s shoulder relax in his arms. 

He looked into his eyes. Those beautiful grey eyes that had hypnotised them for years. He smiled at him with that gorgeous smiled, the one that made him melt. 

“I love you too,” he said drawing him close so their lips were just barely touching. “More than anything.” 

He pressed his lips to his, and to the sound of violins and a feeling like they were the only two people in the universe they kissed. And Oliver didn’t want anything else in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And we're done with a cute corny ending, yay! 
> 
> I'm so happy with how this turned out and that I finished it! This is officially the longest thing I've written and I love it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone whose read this! Especially to those who've been here since the start. I loved writing this and I loved exploring their characters in a way I haven't before. I hope you all loved this!


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